


Like A Second Heart

by Fluffypanda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Canon-Typical Violence, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Flashbacks, Food, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, POV Steve Rogers, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Steve Rogers Feels, Symbolism, Team Bonding, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8663656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/pseuds/Fluffypanda
Summary: Until he had all of Tony’s memories, fears, and hang-ups from the past eight years dropped into his head, Steve would have said he was fearless. Now he knew he was wrong.
Now available in Russian! [Русский]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into Русский available: [Как Второе Сердце](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6711418) by [Alisa_Kaplan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisa_Kaplan/pseuds/Alisa_Kaplan)/[Alessa___Gillespie](https://ficbook.net/authors/2123249)
> 
> A great thanks to my betas:  
> [erawebuilt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/erawebuilt/pseuds/erawebuilt)  
> and  
> [shoot_to_thrill](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shoot_to_thrill/pseuds/shoot_to_thrill)  
> Without you this wouldn't be as half as good as it is!
> 
> Art by [Fiction For Life (ireallyshouldbedrawing)](http://ireallyshouldbedrawing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Links to art: [here](http://68.media.tumblr.com/8dc3faaa9e400ab40e832e31ca073078/tumblr_ohfbppd1Nv1rpr5kno1_1280.jpg) , [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/07794c673c5ba1088675aaf3898aa400/tumblr_ohf9p4KIWS1rpr5kno3_1280.jpg) and  
> [here](http://68.media.tumblr.com/51fb9a12dfc123c014d07a31bbf3b65d/tumblr_ohfbppd1Nv1rpr5kno2_1280.jpg)  
> [tumblr post here](http://ireallyshouldbedrawing.tumblr.com/post/153834128225)  
> (Now embeded in the story!)

Scarlet and gold plumage filled Steve’s dreams. A majestic bird rose up out of a forge. Its feathers glowed in the darkness, illuminating the cave walls. A crest of seven feathers circled its head like the rays of the sun. It had a long and elegant neck like a heron, with the powerful body of an eagle, and the elaborate tail feathers of a peacock. Its sapphire eyes seemed to be gazing far into the future. Most remarkably, its feathers melted into flames creating a picture of pure radiance.

Unconsciously, Steve reached out to the beautiful creature. With a few graceful beats of its wings, the bird landed on his outstretched arm and pressed its head to his forehead. The brush of its feathers sent warmth radiating throughout his being and the bird faded, leaving behind a new familiarity with the scene.

The dim lights flicked on, revealing grime and mildew coated walls, scrap metal covering nearly every surface, and an abandoned car battery. There was no one there, but Steve knew he was being watched. His eyes fell on a Backgammon board lined with washers and nuts. His lips curved into a melancholy smile before he jerked awake.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

The smell was familiar; it was the smell of illness and disinfectant. He’d recognize it anywhere. Steve had spent a lot of time in hospitals when he was younger between his illnesses and his mother’s time there. After taking a dip in the Potomac, he’d been reacquainted with them. He blinked his eyes open.

Steve’s bed was facing a door set in an off-white wall, to his left there was a window letting in the city lights, and to his right were an occupied chair and a curtain. The room was sparsely decorated, with the most notable features being the medical equipment. Besides the beeping EKG machine and the IV stand, there was a small table with a vase of daffodils and another red flower that looked like something he had once seen in a Van Gogh painting, a card emblazoned with a stylized swooping bird stuck out of the flowers. The arrangement brought to mind something infinitely more precious to him, his mother. During some of his longer hospital stays as a child, she would set a glass of water with cheap carnations by his bedside to brighten the room.

Steve’s chest felt heavy and there was a deep ache right in the center that makes him paw at it to check for damage. Gauze wrapped Steve’s hands, underneath his skin had a stinging tightness that he associated with healing burns. Despite the ache in his chest, which had since receded, the burns were the only injury Steve could find.  Yet there was a feeling of uneasiness, and Steve was no longer sure he trusted the doctors not to have done something to him while he was out.  Steve shoved aside this feeling; he knew any medical personnel the Avengers trust would do right by him.

Bruce was napping in a chair beside his bed. It was so like him to doze off sitting up like that. He was wearing the extra clothes they keep in the quinjet for him post-mission. His hair was scruffy, his chin was covered in stubble and his eyes were lined with dark circles. In short, he looked exhausted, as he often did after turning back. There was the faint sound of classical music leaking out of his headphones in his lap. A flash of fondness for him warmed Steve’s heart, but he had more pressing concerns: he needed to know how Tony was doing.

In the hours after the discovery of Tony’s kidnapping, the Avengers put their quest to root out Hydra on hold and poured all their resources into finding him. They had been on edge as lead after lead came up empty. Bruce had been ready to hulk out at any moment while Clint and Natasha grew more irritable. The skies filled with the rumbling thunder of Thor’s impatience. Steve let it all roll off him as if he was cloaked in an impenetrable hide; he of all people had to stay calm in the face of this crisis.

Finally, there was a breakthrough in the form of a message from Tony. Somehow he had accessed a computer without being spotted and transmitted his location to the Avengers. He was being held by a remnant of Advanced Idea Mechanics. They worried over the possibility that something happened to their teammate and sponsor in the hours before they mounted a rescue mission.

The scientists started fleeing the base as soon as they broke down the front door. Steve sent Natasha and Clint after them while he, Thor, and the Hulk smashed through the base. When Steve found Tony, it was like déjà vu. AIM had Tony strapped in some sort of machine. The base was largely cleared out by that point, only the so-called scientists in the lab with Tony had stayed, but even they didn’t dare get in Captain America’s way. He was trying to pull Tony out when the device malfunctioned. Steve must have lost consciousness after that.

Steve gently woke Bruce up by patting his arm. Every passing second weighed on him; he needed to hear that Tony was okay, but he wouldn’t let his impatience cause an incident. Tony would insist it took more than a rude awaking to bring out the Hulk, but Steve thought it was better to be safe than sorry.

All Steve had to rasp out was Tony’s name before Bruce quickly assured him, “Tony made it out, but he has fractured ribs, the radius in his right arm is broken, and second-degree burns on his temple. We’re still waiting for him to wake up.”  Bruce handed him a glass of water.

Steve turned himself so he was on the side of the bed facing Bruce and took a sip of water. Tony was the most fragile yet the most well protected out of all of them. He came out of most missions in pretty good shape despite all the hits he took. Tony lying in a hospital was a disturbing image.  It’d take time, but Tony could heal from broken bones. No, what had Steve worried was that Tony hadn’t woken up yet. That could be bad news.

“Is there anything preventing him from waking up?” Steve asked.

Bruce shook his head. “He was out when we evacuated him and they gave him some sedatives while they treated his injuries, but he should be waking up soon.”

“Did you see any of the machines AIM had him strapped into? What do you think they were trying to accomplish?”

“I didn’t get a good look at them, and they aren’t in great condition now. At the time we were more concerned with getting Tony out than preserving the tech,” Bruce told him apologetically.  “AIM could have a lot of different reasons for capturing Tony. They might just hold a grudge because of the thing with Aldrich Killian. The people we rounded up are still being interrogated, but they don’t seem to know much.”

“I shouldn’t have let this happen,” Steve said, clenching the fabric of the hospital gown over his heart. “It’s because of me he left the tower.”

“You had another fight?”

Steve dipped his head in acknowledgement, there was no point in denying it, the team had already seen enough of his and Tony’s spats.

“You can’t control Tony’s actions and it would be wrong if you tried,” Bruce said. “ Despite what you may think, he has reasons for the things he does.”

Steve frowned. He obviously knew Tony had his reasons, but he had a hard time seeing them. He just didn’t understand what Tony was thinking most of the time. They could pull off wonderful tag-team moves, but there were more occasions where they clashed, especially off the field. Moving on, he asked, “Anyone else get injured? Where’s the rest of the team?”

“No, only you and Tony. Natasha’s off interrogating with Hill and Clint is providing protection for the cleanup crew. You never know what these people have lurking in their hideouts.”

Steve shuddered at the memory of the rabid, mutated animals that got loose after one battle. Just when they thought they were done fighting, something new would pop up. Everyone had to get shots afterwards, even Steve.

That left just one Avenger unaccounted for. “And where is Thor?”

“He’s back at home. You know how he feels about hospitals. I guess they would seem pretty barbaric to an advanced alien society.”

“I bet the nurses are miserable with him gone, what with him frying the medical equipment all the time.” Steve kept his serious face on, but there was just a hint of a smile in his eyes as he held back his laughter.

“I don’t know, I recall some of them trying to flirt last time he was here.”

With a laugh, Steve reminded him, “They flirt with everyone but Tony.”

“That’s only because Tony flirts with them first. It’s a wonder how Pepper puts up with it.”

“Yeah, it’s because she knew it wasn’t going anywhere and it didn’t mean anything,” Steve said distantly. He was thinking about Miss Potts, how she’d handle everything efficiently and maturely. There was something else about her…

“Steve?”

Bruce’s voice snapped Steve out of that train of thought. Steve shook his head to clear away the cobwebs. He turned his attention to Bruce and asked, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Bruce looked at him hesitantly and asked, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to get lost in thought like that. Does your head hurt? There weren’t any signs of a concussion earlier.”

Steve was about to assure him that he was fine when Dr. Erica Sondheim came in. She was a tall woman with red hair and green eyes. A deeply intelligent, no nonsense woman, originally she had been a thoracic surgeon, but Tony personally hired her as a physician to treat the Avengers so she was called into any medical facility the Avengers were being treated at. She had her work cut out for her, but she was due for a long vacation pretty soon. Her colleague, Helen Cho, would be taking over while she came from Korea to work with Bruce on some fancy medical device. She deserved the time off.

Bruce stood to greet her, probably in response to Steve doing the same. The doctor looked up from her clipboard and said, “Mr. Stark appears to be waking up. I thought Dr. Banner would like to be there when he does. I’ll ask that you remain here, Captain Rogers. You’re still under observation and we’re limiting the number of visitors Mr. Stark can receive until he’s in a more stable condition.”

Bruce nodded and rushed off to where they were keeping Tony, leaving Steve to his own devices.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

A snapping sound echoed softly in his ear. Steve looked down at the pencil in his hand; it was broken in half, the two pieces connected by a mere splinter, a causality of his drive to create, something he hadn’t felt in years. He opened the drawer beside his bed and dropped the pencil and notepad inside. Several hours had passed since Bruce left and Tony hadn’t left Steve’s thoughts, preoccupied with just how much he wished he could check on him. At this point, though, he wanted to at least have something productive to do. He had finished writing his mission report within an hour of waking. As much as Steve wanted to just leave, Dr. Sondheim had requested that he stay overnight for observation, so here he was being a good patient and doodling in his notebook instead of causing trouble. He heard the door to his room open, but instead of Bruce with an update on Tony, it was a nurse with his dinner.

The nurse placed a blue plastic tray of food on the little table attached to Steve’s hospital bed. It looked like this tray was made up just for him because there was twice as much on it compared to the others on the cart. The nurse told Steve to enjoy his meal before leaving; Steve thanked him and got eating. It was better than average hospital fare since, after all, Tony was funding this place. It was certainly better than what he ate as a poor orphan in Brooklyn and what the army gave him for rations during the war. He’d rather have turkey tetrazzini than that stuff any day. He even had dessert.

The coconut cream pie was delicious. After eating it, Steve felt refreshed and ready to take on the world. Steve wasn’t sure why the taste was so familiar and uplifting; he hadn’t had coconut cream pie before, he hadn’t gotten around to trying in this new century, and well before… Steve shook it off. Just in time too, Natasha came in.

“Knock, knock. I have clothes for you,” she said, holding up a small duffle bag. She placed the bag on the visitor’s chair and sat on the end of his bed. “I fished your old man clothes out of your closet.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you approve of my fashion choices,” he deadpanned. Sometimes Steve felt like he was always saying the same worn out platitudes every time he had a casual conversation, but usually he was okay with Natasha.

She huffed, “’Approve’ is stretching it, and actually ‘fashion choices’ is really stretching it. I hope you don’t go on dates dressed like this.”

“I don’t go on dates dressed like that,” he dutifully reported. He didn’t actually go on dates at all, though he had been testing the waters with Sharon. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about stepping out with her.

She squinted at him to let him know she wasn’t buying it, but asked “What kind of pie is that?”

He barely said, “coconut cream” before she stole the fork out of his hand and took a bite.

He had actually been enjoying it, so he tried snatching it back from her. As it turns out she had no compunctions about stuffing what was left of the dessert in her mouth.

“How are you holding up?” she asked after finishing off his pie. He hoped she enjoyed it.

“I’m fine. I’m just worried about Tony. Bruce left earlier to see how he was, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“I guess everyone got caught up in what was going on and they forgot to tell you. It’s been kind of hectic.” Natasha turned to look at him. “Stark has some form of retrograde amnesia. He can’t remember the last eight or nine years. We’re still working on pinning the details down.”

His stomach turned to lead. The thought of someone else forgetting him-  He forced his hands to unclench and took a breath. Steve did a little math in his head to figure out when that would be for Tony. “Then he doesn’t remember being Iron Man or fighting as an Avenger?”

Natasha confirmed this. “Not at all. When he woke up he thought he’d gotten into an accident drunk driving. From what I know of him before Afghanistan, it wasn’t an unlikely scenario.”

Steve knew a bit about waking up in an unfamiliar situation. “He’s not going to know anyone then. How’s he holding up?”

“We called in Rhodes. He’s known Stark since they were a couple of dumb kids at MIT.” Steve hadn’t realized they went back that far. Then something else occurred to him.

“What about Ms. Potts? Wouldn’t she be closer to him?”

“She was unavailable.” Steve didn’t quite understand the blank look she was giving him.

“Do they know if it’s going to be permanent?”

Natasha scowled. “The doctors scanned him and are trying to work out what’s causing this. His brain isn’t showing the usual signs of damage amnesia patients have.”

“That machine they strapped him into might have something to do with it. Did you get anything from the people we captured?”

“Not much. We’ll go over what Hill and I found out at the debriefing tomorrow morning.” She patted his leg before standing up. “It’s at ten so take your time getting up.” She cheekily grabbed Steve’s mission report and sauntering off.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Steve woke quietly, with nothing more than a gasped breath. His internal clock told him it was early, but not too early to be awake. He wished he could go for a run. If he left now he could do a few laps, get back, shower, and still be in time for the debriefing. Still, the doctors wanted him here, and he wasn’t about to ignore their recommendations, that would just give the rest of his team ideas. It was hard enough getting them to follow doctor’s orders.

Steve still felt the dream in the back of his head. He didn’t remember it well, but something was different about it. The more he tried to hold onto the details, the more they faded, until all that was left was cold stars and a faint anxiety.

After twiddling his thumbs for a while, Steve flagged down a nurse to ask if he could visit Tony now. He’d really feel better if he could see him in person rather than hearing about his condition secondhand. The nurse, not the one who delivered his dinner, informed him that Tony was already awake and the doctors approved him for more visitors. Once Steve was checked over by the doctor, he could go visit him.

Dr. Sondheim ran Steve through the usual array of tests and asked how he was feeling. Steve answered honestly that he was doing much better. Now free to go, Steve freshened up and changed into the spare clothes Natasha brought him the night before. Once presentable, Steve made his way down the cream-colored hospital corridors toward Tony’s room.

Steve could hear Tony from the hallway, he was talking to someone who sounded like Colonel James Rhodes, one of the few people he had heard Tony genuinely call a friend. When he reached the door, he could see the two of them animatedly talking to each other. Tony was gesturing with one arm since the other was wrapped up in a sling. There were large adhesive bandages on either side of his temple.

“Are you serious? Not since 2008? You’ve got to be messing with me.” Tony’s voice was laced with incredulity.

Rhodes held up his hands and said, “Look, I don’t watch your every move, but from what you’ve said, it’s true.”

“No, I can’t believe I’d go that long without -” The two noticed Steve’s presence and cut off their conversation. Steve took this opportunity to step forward.

“I know you don’t remember me, but I’m –“, Steve said haltingly.

“I know who you are. I’ve heard all about you. Including, just now, how they defrosted you like a TV dinner. So what do you want, Encino Man?” Tony smiled as he said this in a bright voice, yet anyone who knew him could taste the venom in his words.

Steve was taken aback at this hostility in Tony; it was even worse than when they first met. Steve couldn’t say he knew Tony as well as he could have despite working with him, but by this point, Tony was a _familiar_ part of this new century Steve found himself part of. This Tony was almost completely foreign to him.

In an effort to not escalate the situation, Steve tried not to let Tony’s attitude bother him. Steve continued, “Right, well, I just came by to check how you were doing.”

“I’m doing just fine, just some broken bones and memory loss, you know how it is. I’ve heard this is a normal thing for me now.” Tony’s smile became even more vicious before disappearing altogether.

With strained casualness, Tony started, “Hey, so we’re supposed to be teammates right? What were you doing that you let me get kidnapped, huh?”

“Tony, don’t,” Rhodes warned.

Ignoring Rhodes’ attempts to stop him, Tony continued, all fired up and not making any attempts at disguising it. “Mind telling me that, He-man? Aren’t you supposed to protect people? I heard you’d do anything for your team, but I guess I don’t rate that kind of care.” Tony had been progressively leaning closer and closer to the edge of his bed in order to better berate Captain America, but once he finished he collapsed back in his bed in obvious pain. Both Steve and Rhodes looked on in concern.

“Tony, you’re right. I should have done a better job protecting you. I let you go out alone even though I know how vulnerable you are. I won’t let AIM get away with this.”

Tony seemed a bit taken aback by this, so Steve left before it turned into a fight. He didn’t want to fight Tony again. Too many of their conversations turned out that way. Steve really should have known he’d get burned.

Rhodes followed Steve out of the room. He explained that he was going to the meeting too. Once they had turned a few corners, he told Steve, “I’m sorry about Tony, he’s having a rough time and you are the last person he should have seen.”

“Me?” Steve knew they didn’t really get along, but he would have thought that he’d be starting with a clean slate. Now it sounded like Tony always had a problem with him.

“Yeah, I don’t know the whole story, but I’ve known Tony long enough to have some idea why he has issues with you.” Rhodes shrugged with his hands in his pockets.

Steve turned to look at him. “It’s that bad?”

“He’s been better lately, but it used to be pretty serious, and now that he’s forgotten everything…”

Steve blinked bewilderedly. “Why?”

“Just hear me out. I think it’s because you are tied to his issues with his father. Tony loved him, but they didn’t exactly have a loving relationship.” Rhodes explained, wincing a little. “Sometimes, at MIT, Tony would offhandedly mention Captain America stories that his dad told him, but every other time he’d talk about Howard it would be about his disapproval or their fights. I heard he’d often go up north looking for you.”

Steve wasn’t quite sure he was getting this. “So, he hates me because he didn’t get along with Howard?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say he hates you…”

Steve snorted. “That seemed a lot like hate back there,”

“Tony is probably going to kill me for saying this, but he actually used to be a huge fan,”

“Yeah, the way he compared me to a frozen dinner gave it away.”

“No, really. I’ve seen his collection; he had all the comic books and memorabilia.”

Steve couldn’t wrap his head around that. “Why?”

Rhodes leveled an exasperated look at him. “Besides the fact that you’re the hero every kid looks up to? It seemed like you were the one thing Tony could talk to Howard about. Howard’s feelings towards you probably rubbed off on him.”

“Couldn’t they have talked about their inventions?” They both worked on new technologies, surely they talked about that.

“I don’t know.” Rhodes rubbed the back of his neck. “From what Tony said, it seemed like Howard thought most of what Tony did was frivolous. Tony never was satisfied with the stuff he made and I think that comes from years of hearing that his work wasn’t good enough.”

“I never realized. That really explains a lot.” Tony was obsessive in the way he worked on things. Steve could hardly believe the hours he kept.

“Just don’t let on you know,” Rhodes pleaded. “He’d hate that.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

The Avengers held their meetings in a conference room in the tower. Tony had it outfitted with holographic projectors, glass topped tables, and ergonomic chairs. Steve wasn’t sure they needed all that; he wasn’t even sure why Tony was paying for it since he avoided most of the meetings as it was.

The room was on one of the highest floors in the tower so Steve had to take the elevator up. Before the doors closed, Clint slipped into the elevator behind him.

Steve checked his watch to make sure he wasn’t running behind and was mildly surprised to see it was a few minutes before ten am. “You’re on time today.”

“Yeah, well, I came straight from work so don’t get used to it,” Clint grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Concerned, Steve asked, “They had you on protection detail for that long?”

“Right when I was supposed to clock out these things escaped and started wreaking havoc. It took forever to get them all. They were nasty. Rat spiders! No, Spiderats!”

“Which was it?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Spiderats, definitely.” Clint grinned before sighing, “Anyway, I’m beat.”

The elevator dinged open, and they walked together to the conference room.

The meeting started once everyone sat down. Natasha and Clint were in the corner giving each other these looks. To Steve’s left, Thor sat uncharacteristically silent. Beyond the empty chair to Steve’s right, Rhodes and Bruce whispered about Tony’s chances of recovery. Steve reminded himself that it was rude to eavesdrop; he’d hear more about the subject later in the meeting anyway.

“Ok, everybody,” said Agent Maria Hill from where she stood at the head of the room. “I’ve gone over everybody’s reports and compiled the information in these packets.”

She handed each of the Avengers a folder. Steve tried to take the report being handed to him, but he just couldn’t. The idea of taking something from Hill made him deeply uncomfortable. After a few seconds of tension, Hill put the folder on the desk in front of Steve and moved on. He frowned at his odd reaction.

To begin the meeting, they went around summarizing their part in the mission along with any observations they had, things ranging from what AIM was up to, the environment, and what their teammates had been doing that was good or needed improving. Everyone was encouraged to speak up if they had something to add to any of those observations. Sometimes really useful information came to light this way; however, today no one had anything new to say.

Once the discussion concluded, Agent Hill stood and began her report to the Avengers: “Before we can continue flushing out Hydra, we need to deal with Stark’s memory problems. After searching the captured base, we’ve determined that there isn’t anything we can use to help Stark. Not only were the research notes cleared, the scientists left behind are a bunch of quacks--more so than usual for AIM. They have no idea how any of their tech works, only how to operate it and take notes. They did tell us that the machine they were using on Stark was meant to extract his memories. So we were able to confirm his memory loss was no accident.”

“Do we have any idea how to fix it?” Clint got straight to the point, asking what everyone wanted to know.

“The machine was too damaged for me to make heads or tails of it. I only have a rudimentary knowledge of neuroscience, and this is a job for someone unparalleled in working with memories,” Bruce explained. He frowned at the table. “Ideally, to get this done we’d have to have the original creator of the machine to work with, or their notes. Tony had something related to memories in development, but I doubt it’s going to be much help. The best we can do is recruit some of the researchers on that project and hope we can come up with something.”

Before anyone could so much as sigh, Natasha sat up a little straighter and said, “We have a lead.”

“This is the current leader of AIM, or at least a part of it.” Hill pointed to a screen displaying a picture of an unhappy-looking woman with straight black hair and blue eyes. She had tan skin and distinctive cheekbones. “Her name is Monica Rappaccini, and she is their so-called ‘Scientist Supreme’. She was part of the group that managed to flee the base. It is likely she holds the research notes pertaining to the memory-extraction device.”

“I know her. She worked with me for a while in New Mexico. I found out she won a few awards for her research. That she stole from me,” Bruce said, in that mild way of his that let Steve know while he wasn’t anywhere near hulking out, he was a bit upset about this. “I had no idea her work went even further downhill from there.”

“She sounds like a real vulture,” Clint added, earning him a smirk from Bruce.

“Don’t underestimate her. She’s the leading authority on biological toxins and has AIM’s might behind her. She has access to all of the projects they are working on, from weapons to teleportation.”

“In what manner will we locate her?” Thor asked.

“A camera spotted Carl Lombardi, a known member of AIM, in Venice Marco Polo Airport. We believe he is still in the city and trying to connect with Rappaccini,” said Hill. She pulled up a blurry image from a security camera. It showed a man with brown hair among a crowd of people with suitcases.

“It makes sense. She studied at the University of Padua. She obviously has connections to Italy,” Bruce pointed out while cleaning his glasses.

“In light of this, Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff will tail Lombardi and attempt to capture Rappaccini. This is a stealth mission, so I’m going to set up a cover for you as two tourists,” Hill stated.

Three hours were spent going over the finer details of the next mission, everything they needed to know about the area they were operating in, Rappaccini, and AIM, with a particular focus on the weapons AIM had been developing. Steve felt a fierce determination well up inside of him. He couldn’t wait to get his claws into Dr. Monica Rappaccini.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite knowing better, Steve was surprised to see Tony casually stationed outside the meeting room. Tony shouldn’t have even been out of the hospital yet, but, really, when had that ever stopped him? Steve couldn’t help but notice how the crown of his downy hair stuck up even without product in it. It looked soft, like a newborn chick.

After a slight pause, Steve continued on to his room to get ready for the mission. He was not going to fight with Tony again, not at least until he had his memory back. It wouldn’t sit right with Steve if the only memories Tony had of him were of arguing. Unfortunately, Steve forgot that ignoring Tony was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Hey, Buck Rogers! I got something for you.” Tony held out a harness with metal fittings; there was some sort of electronic component to it. Upon closer inspection Steve realized it was similar to the harness he used to carry the shield. “I found it in my workshop; I think I was working on it for you. I put the finishing touches on. You can thank me later.”

How Tony could have gotten any work done with a broken arm Steve would never know. “Are you sure it’s ready? You don’t even remember making it.” He really didn’t want to take incomplete technology into the field.

“It’s fine, I’m a genius. I can figure out my own work,” he scoffed, tucking his hand in his pocket. The other, held up by the sling, clenched around the harness.

Steve took a closer look. “What does it do?”

“It has a hologram that disguises your shield. Everyone will see a backpack instead of a star-spangled target,” Tony explained with a wide grin and shining eyes; Steve could see how cool Tony thought this was, but he wasn’t completely sold on it.

“I usually hide it in an art portfolio.”

Tony laughed. “You might as well be screaming, ‘I have something to hide!’”

“It’s not unusual for artists to take supplies around to the sights in Italy.” If he had time, it’s exactly what he’d do.

“Something tells me you aren’t just going to be seeing the sights, but fine. Don’t take it.” Tony frowned and turned away with a shrug, clearly trying to pretend he didn’t really care.

“No, I’ll take it. I guess I’m still not used to using your fancy gadgets.” Steve took the harness out of Tony’s hands. He shouldn’t have made a fuss, if it would make Tony feel better if he used it, then he might as well. He was pretty sure this was how Tony apologized, using money and inventions. “Thanks, Q.”

“Yes, well, it's called the future, so get used to it,” Tony quoted with a rather passable English accent before continuing, “Someone had to properly cover your spangled ass. I can’t let America’s bastion of moral goodness get shot in the face, can I?”

With a pat on his shoulder, Tony took off, presumably back to his workshop. Steve would ask Rhodes to send him back to bed later.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Swiftly and silently, Steve snatched the sfogliatella, or he attempted to anyway. Without looking away from the target, Natasha moved the plate and dessert out of Steve’s reach. Since arriving in Venice, he and Natasha had staked out the dingy hotel Lombardi was staying at then shadowed him around the city. Steve had never gotten the chance to visit Venice despite having fought less than 100 miles away. Of course, at the time he was more concerned with the USO show and rescuing Bucky. This time his cover as a tourist provided him with some leeway to pretend to sightsee. Steve was a little sad to miss out on the majority of the history and art surrounding him, but at least he got to see the city. Currently, they were at a café across the street from where Lombardi was eating lunch.

“He’s not going anywhere soon,” Natasha said, finishing off her pastry. “I’ve never seen a man so in love with a plate of calamari.”

Steve faced away from Lombardi in order to give the illusion Natasha looked at him instead of their prey. “Good. Maybe we can figure out what he’s up to.”

Keeping track of Lombardi was a job and a half. He seemed to want to hit all the major tourist destinations, probably hoping to lose any tails the in the crowds. Natasha had them change disguises several times throughout the day in order to prevent being made, even going so far as to use waterproof makeup to give them both different distinguishing features. Steve really hated the itchy and sweaty wigs she made him wear.

“So far, all the wandering around appears to be for throwing off people like us or trying to trick us into revealing ourselves. He could be waiting for one of his allies to make contact. We’ll just have to watch for it.” Natasha leaned back in her chair, her hands still on the table. “In the meantime, how have things been going with Sharon? She said you called her like I asked.”

“Is now really the time to talk about this?”

After a brief staring contest, Natasha reached for her drink. “We’ve got few minutes, we need to talk about something. What do you two talk about?”

Steve, remembering Natasha’s persistent interest in his love life, realized the subject wasn’t going to be dropped. “You know, work. Peggy seems to come up a lot. Sharon has a lot of stories to tell about her. It’s really something, the work she did and the life she lived.”

Natasha tilted her head and asked, “You like her?”

“This is like grade school all over again. Yes, I like her, she’s nice,” Steve grumbled. Bucky did the same thing with every girl that looked Steve’s way when they were kids. Actually, he did it when they were adults too.

“What do you like about her? Besides that she’s nice.”

Steve wasn’t quite sure how to answer that, a couple of responses ran through his head, but they didn’t seem like the right ones. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer by Lombardi getting ready to move. Within a few minutes they were on the hunt once again.

It was at the Venetian Arsenal where things got interesting. They saw Lombardi pick up a slip of paper from one of the statues there. Steve posed next to the statue to quickly check the dead drop for clues, but found nothing left behind. Natasha took pictures and laughed as they followed Lombardi along the Calle de la Canonica, looking out on the Grand Canal.

A half an hour later, Steve stood under the eastern column in the Piazza San Marco, watching Lombardi enter the National Library of St Mark's. Natasha followed him in at a distance while Steve stood guard, attempting to look casual as he drummed his fingers on his chest. He needed to blend in while keeping an eye on the white façade of the Biblioteca. If anyone or anything alerted Lombardi to their presence, they wouldn’t be able to tail him to Dr. Rappaccini’s location.

Lombardi exited the building just behind Natasha, who was making a show of taking pictures of the Piazza and even Steve as she drew closer.

Steve awkwardly greeted Natasha, “Hi, honey. Get any good pictures?”

“No, you were too close to the column to get both you and the statue in one shot,” she complained.

Steve just barely kept from sighing and asked, “What about in the library? See anything worth a picture there?”

“The interior was gorgeous, but what really caught my attention was a meeting between people hoping to make a connection. Someone updated their address book,” Natasha said playfully. Steve translated her words to mean there was an information drop and Lombardi would now know where to find Monica Rappaccini. Capturing him for interrogation might give away their interest, so, for now, they’d have to continue stalking Lombardi.

That night Lombardi left Venice for the University of Padua by train. Natasha and Steve rode a few cars back from their prey and followed him out at the station. He dropped his luggage in one of the lockers. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Natasha performed a quick search of his belongings before catching up with Steve. She informed him there wasn’t much of interest in the bags; all his weapons and information must be on his person. She also planted a bug in the lining of his suitcase.

The university campus was lit by street lamps that cast shadows every which way. It was a simple matter to watch Lombardi slip from one to the other as they stayed close behind. They came to a stop outside of one of the science buildings, where they watched him break in with the practiced movements of a criminal. Steve held back the temptation to stop this crime in progress. A scant few minutes later Lombardi was out again. If he took anything, it was small as there was nothing in his hands.

They followed him back to the station where he picked up his luggage. He noticed nothing amiss; Natasha was a professional after all. They spent that night three doors down from him in a nearby hotel. Their bug didn’t pick up much more than the ordinary sounds of life, the toilet flushing, the TV blaring, and Lombardi snoring.

From that point on, Lombardi started traveling incrementally south. Some days he’d travel east, others he’d travel west, but every day they’d end up just little bit further south. They followed him every step of the way just in case he went somewhere without the suitcase or found the bug. Steve would have nightmares on the rare occasions he slept. He could never remember what they were about, but they left him short of breath. It was startling how often he had them; usually, he’d only have one or two a month and spend the night reading or exercising instead of sleeping.

After four days, they finally ended up in Florence where they were supposed to make contact with one of their allies. It should have taken less than a day to get to there from Padua, but the route Lombardi was taking seemed to be designed to frustrate and confuse. Natasha would be in charge of keeping an eye on Lombardi while Steve waited at the rendezvous point.

Steve felt like one of Donatello’s sculptures as he stood watch with his shield in the _Piazza della Signoria_ , though he didn’t look the part with the Hawaiian shirt and shaggy brown wig he was wearing, even his shield was disguised by the harness Tony had given him. At Natasha’s signal, he headed over to _Loggia dei Lanzi_ where he sat and pretended to sketch the marble sculptures flanking the steps. What he really was doing was watching for their friend. They had been checking in with headquarters regularly, but their contact was a former SHIELD agent who had been on the ground, looking into AIM.

As he scanned the crowds, he absently wished he could visit the galleries of the Palazzo Pitti, and see the art housed there. They had several of Raphael’s paintings including _Ezekiel's Vision._ Back when Steve had been in art school, the teacher had loved using Raphael as an example for oil painting. As much as he enjoyed doodling cartoons like Virgil Partch and Oscar Berger, he wished he had time for more elaborate pieces.

Steve waited on the steps for hours, actually managing to finish his sketch, but the contact never showed. This was rather worrying; there were an unlimited number of reasons their ally didn’t come to the rendezvous point, the most likely of them very bad indeed. However, when he and Natasha regrouped, they agreed to carry on with the mission.

They continued traveling as they passed through Terni and Ascoli Piceno, progress as slow and erratic as it had been on the way to Florence. Steve found himself growing unusually restless and irritated while Natasha remained her ever professional self. It got to the point where she decided he needed a pep talk, as awkward as that was. It basically amounted to ‘suck it up’, but Steve did feel a little better afterward.

While in Rome, Lombardi discreetly handed something to a man he passed in the street. Natasha identified the man as a known AIM operative. They had a split second to come to the decision, he looked her in the eyes and knew what to do. Steve veered off from the path to tail the other man while Natasha continued on.

He followed the man north to a brown building with a sign declaring it to be the Catacomb of Priscilla, now closed for the summer. They wove their way through the building until they reached the entrance to the catacombs. Steve’s mouth felt unusually dry as he slipped after the man into the poorly lit passage guarded by twisted gates that looked as if they lead down into hell. The first few chambers, seemingly the heart of the catacomb, were fairly large and covered in crumbling art. Something stirred in the back of his mind as he glanced up at a depiction of the Last Judgement.

He treaded softly to ensure his steps didn’t echo off the walls of the catacombs. The cool, dank atmosphere and musty smell made him uncomfortable, playing at the dark corners of his imagination. They approached a roped off area, the floor covered in dust, though there was some evidence that people had been through recently.

After that the passage narrowed significantly, winding around deep beneath the earth. He was able to hear voices from ahead of where the operative was walking. When Steve finally caught a glimpse of where the voices were coming from, he saw the man who led him there join two others that had a fourth man tied up and gagged.

The newcomer handed something Steve recognized as the package he got from Lombardi to one of the other men. The third man pulled out cases that contained some kind of advanced gun. It had been included in the briefing packet, but Maria said it wasn’t likely to be used due to an issue with the power source. It looked like that issue had just been solved though. They were slotting in batteries from Lombardi’s package.

Steve had seen more than enough. Before they could finish arming their guns, Steve threw his shield to hit one of the men then another on the rebound. He tumbled then jumped up to catch it and throw it again. Just like that all three of them were taken out, just leaving the tied up man conscious.

Steve got closer and noticed it was their contact, Agent Billis. He looked a bit worse for wear, but not critically injured. Steve removed the gag and untied him.

“Thanks, Cap,” Billis rasped. “I’m not usually the one that needs rescuing.”

Cap assured him, “It happens to us all sometimes.”

“I was trying to see what connections they had in the area and root them out, but I got careless. I underestimated them since they were low-level grunts and they ambushed me,” he said, bitterly. “Thankfully, these guys seem like they are mostly on their own. The AIM cell they were part of is slowly being rounded up after you guys busted their base. I’m willing to bet they just barely avoided being captured fleeing the base with those weapons.”

“What are we going to do with them now?” Steve asked.

Billis responded, “I can take care of things from here. You can go back to your mission.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Steve felt the sun beating down on him and was reminded of the taste of sand in his mouth. For just a moment, he was lost, delirious with heatstroke, before snapping back to the present. He ignored the twinge in his chest and carefully watched Lombardi’s movements.

At last, they arrived in a town called Positano. It wasn’t as a big of a destination as Venice, but Positano did attract tourism with its colorful cliffside buildings and boutiques. The town was spread out on a steep incline. Cafes and storefronts lined the narrow streets that led down to the waterfront where there were pebble beaches and a wharf. There was art and greenery on every corner and beautiful views of the ocean which shifted from teal to turquoise in the sunlight.

The bug they placed in the suitcase finally proved useful when Lombardi got a hotel and stayed there. They determined from the conversations they listened in on that Lombardi would finally make contact with Rappaccini here in town. After a couple of days of watching him lay low, they followed Lombardi to a restaurant called _C'era una Volta_ and watched him get a seated on the patio. Natasha and Steve did the same.

One of the restaurant patrons smoked a cigar; the ocean breeze carried the smoke to Steve. He froze right about to take a seat at the table the waiter led them to. The scent of the cigar brought feelings of acceptance, but they were quickly poisoned by betrayal. A weight fell across his shoulder. Steve’s heart sped up before he could shake the illusion of paralysis and breathe again.

Steve’s unnatural movements caught Lombardi’s attention and before Steve or Natasha could react, he launched himself over the fence surrounding the patio. Steve followed Lombardi quickly with the grace of a fierce yet noble predator. He landed with a tumble before bouncing up to pursue Lombardi down the sloped street.

He shouted for Natasha to grab the motorcycle outside the restaurant and try to cut him off. Lombardi turned on to a busy street. Steve briefly lost sight of Lombardi in a crowd of people, but found him again going down a staircase. Steve pushed his way through the crowd. He wouldn’t let his prey get away, but he couldn’t use his shield with this many people in the way.

Steve jumped over tables and ran through flower beds in pursuit. Lombardi took a sharp left into an alleyway and Steve nearly missed the turn, his boots skidding over the pavement. He could hear the rumble of a motorcycle getting more distant. He kicked the trash cans Lombardi toppled in his path out of the way with a roar. He followed Lombardi through several more turns in the tight streets before the man disappeared.

Steve knew he had to be around here somewhere. He carefully looked for any sign of Lombardi or Rappaccini on the small residential street he had been led to. Everything appeared peaceful. However, there was one house with a small garden that caught his eye. It took him a moment to figure out why, but then Steve realized it was because the flowers in the garden were the same as the red ones that were in his hospital room.

Now that Steve thought about it the fact that there had been flowers in his room was odd. Who would have placed them there? None of the Avengers would have thought to do it. The arrangement looked too expensive to be provided by the hospital staff and the public didn’t know about Steve’s injuries. Pepper was the type to send flowers, but the accompanying card made Steve suspect it wasn’t her.

The card had a swooping bird, a raptor. It could be a coincidence to see the same flower here, but combined with a card that practically had Rappaccini’s name on it, Steve’s instinct claimed otherwise. So, he went to the next house over, where he climbed up onto the roof and jumped to the house with the garden. He whispered into his communicator to let Natasha know his location and dropped down to the second-floor balcony.

As he slipped through the window, Lombardi blindsided him with a tackle that threw Steve off balance, allowing Lombardi to get a grip around his neck. He clawed at Lombardi’s arms and threw his weight backwards to bash the man against the window behind him, yet Lombardi was still holding on.

Steve pressed harder into the broken glass and, with a scream, Lombardi released him. Steve backed off to catch his breath and when he saw that Lombardi wasn’t going to stay down he whipped his shield off his back just in time to block a blow.

They tussled through the house, over furniture and through doorways. With his shield up, Lombardi quickly learned that he couldn’t get a hit in and instead kept his distance. He tried to escape to the first floor by hopping over the railing, but Steve used the distance to throw his shield. With a dull clang of vibranium on flesh, Lombardi collapsed. He jumped down to check the body.

From behind Steve a cold voice ordered, “Don’t move.”

With his hands raised, Steve slowly turned toward the voice. It belonged to a woman wearing a white lab coat over a green dress. In her hands she held some sort of high-tech gun.

“I’m guessing you’re Dr. Monica Rappaccini then,” Steve said, levelly.

She kept her gun focused on his chest. “That is correct, Captain”

“You don’t have to do this.” He didn’t think there was much chance of stopping her like this, but he had to try.

“I am AIM’s Scientist Supreme! I won’t be talked down by a fool who believes in heroics,” she spat while reaching towards a switch behind her. Off to the side, a stairway leading underground opened up.

He just had to stall until Natasha could get there. “If you are so smart, why did you kidnap Iron Man? Everyone knows that doesn’t end well.”

She took the bait. With obvious pride, she started to monologue, “I wanted to accomplish what my predecessors failed to do. I plan to make an army of enhanced soldiers. With Aldrich Killian and Maya Hanson dead, many in the organization thought extremis was lost to us, but I knew it was still a viable project. The formula had already been perfected; we simply needed to steal it. That is why I built the memory relay device.”

Behind him, Lombardi groaned and got to his feet. Rappaccini ignored him and continued to outline her plan: “Stark is too paranoid to write the formula down. Once we had him we only needed to use the device to plant the relevant memories in my mind.” She glared at Steve. “If you hadn’t interfered, we would have been able to get the extremis formula.”

Behind Steve, Lombardi pulled out his own gun. “You’ll be coming with us, Captain.” He kicked Steve in the back, sending him stumbling forward.

Steve was led at gunpoint down the underground passage until they came to an open area with running water. The passage looked old, but it was intermittently lit by florescent lights. Going by the taste of the air, it was probably connected to the ocean via the river flowing past. The sound of waves echoing throughout confirmed this. Ahead, a small speed boat was tied to a dock.

Rappaccini once again raised her gun, planning to shoot him and throw him in the water, but before she could take the shot, Steve dove out of the way. Lombardi came charging at him, knocking them both into the river. Water went up his nose. It was in his eyes and ears. Lombardi struggled to keep him under. That was when Steve panicked.

He thrashed against hands as they held him down in the water. His chest burned into numbness as he was electrocuted. He couldn’t breathe. He was having an asthma attack while these bullies were kicking the shit out him, but, no, that’s not right. His head was in a barrel of water and they want him to build the Jericho. His heart was palpating--he had just barely recovered from having his chest torn open and now it was going to give out. He’ll die here, leaving the terrorists to do whatever they want. He needed to--

Steve realized he was sitting in shallow water, but couldn’t quite work out how he got there. He didn’t really care either; he just stared at his trembling hands. His heart beat so fast, like it was going to explode. His chest hurt. He threw up.

He heard a noise behind him and wildly swung his fists out. His vision was dim and unfocused, but once his brain worked out what the flash of red hair meant, he stood down. His mind cleared and he could finally think beyond his panic. He took in the sight of Lombardi’s head cracked open on the stones, blood trickling into the water.

God, he didn’t even remember doing it. That frightened him more than the actual deed and sent a spike of pain through his heart. After a few stuttering breaths, numbness took over. There was no time to feel guilty anyway.

He turned to Natasha. “Rappaccini?”

With a brisk nod, she said, “I got her”

As he knelt in the bloody water, all Steve could manage to say was “Good work”.

Completely drained, Steve stood and shook the water from his mane. He ignored the pain of his twisted ankle, just now making itself known, and marched on.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Steve tried to make sense of what happened while waiting for extraction. He had all the clues. There was more than just the violent flashback in the water. There were little things he had ignored and things that Rappaccini had said. It was just starting to come together in his mind.

Hesitantly, he broached the subject with Natasha. He didn’t like burdening other people with his troubles and as a leader he needed his team to have confidence in him. That wouldn’t happen if they worried about him breaking down. However, this was mission relevant and he couldn’t keep quiet about it.

“When I ran into Rappaccini, she said they were trying to steal Tony’s memories and use them to create extremis.” Steve tried to find words to describe what happened. “I think I remembered something I shouldn’t have. I think it was one of Tony’s memories.”

Natasha didn’t say anything. Steve didn’t know what to make of that. He continued just to fill the silence, “I didn’t think much of it until now, but there have been a few times where…I don’t know how to say it. I got caught up in a feeling?”

She looked concerned. “Are you saying you’ve been having flashbacks?”

“No, not until just now. Before it was just emotions or impressions.”

“We’ll have to investigate this.”

They fell into an exhausted silence after that. It had been a long and tense week for the both of them. Natasha wore her exhaustion well; giving the appearance that if necessary she could still keeping going for another month if she had to, but anyone that forced her to should fear for their life. Steve wore his exhaustion like a soldier. He stood in parade rest, with his back straight yet relaxed. It mostly showed in his eyes which spoke of years of never giving up despite everything wearing him down.

Before long they got picked up in the Quinjet and went back to New York. It was early evening when they got in. They saw Rappaccini to a holding cell, and did a quick debriefing with Hill before being let go. Steve passed through the kitchen for a glass of milk. He burned through calories so quickly that if he didn’t have something right before bed he’d be dizzy with low blood sugar when he woke up.

On the way out of the kitchen, Steve encountered Tony holding a bowl with a few kernels of unpopped corn stuck to the bottom. Tony turned away with a wide eyed look, but before Steve could say anything, he was gone. Unsure of what to do, of how to relate to this man that didn’t remember him, Steve went back to his room. He barely hit the bed before he dropped off dead asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Everything had started when Steve wanted to talk to Tony about their latest mission. A few days prior they had stormed one of Hydra’s underwater fortresses, and there had been a hiccup or two in the operation that resulted in some injured civilians from a nearby boat. Iron Man left early and avoided the debriefing. Now, Tony had finally emerged from his workshop, so Steve grabbed the first chance he could to confront him about what happened._

_In the dim light of the lounge, Steve could see that Tony was perched on the bar stool, knocking back glasses of scotch. Ms. Potts was probably on another business trip because Tony had several bottles in front of him. She would have reined him in._

_Steve was in the awkward position of being both 53 years older and around 15 years younger than Tony Stark. That was true for other Avengers as well, but Tony was the one who made his life difficult. Tony was the one constantly cracking jokes about his old age while disregarding his authority. He made it hard for Steve to act his age._

_“Can you explain why you didn’t follow the plan? I ordered you to stay back and let Natasha take care of it.” Steve tried to hand Tony the mission report, but he wouldn’t take it. Instead he gulped another scotch while kneading his chest._

_Without turning around, he spat, “It doesn’t matter. I got the job done.”_

_“It does matter. I can’t run this team if its members just do what they want,”_ _Steve snarled._

_“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” he said with mock concern._

_“That’s not the point and you know it.” He looked at the mission report still in his hands “And would you just take the file already?”_

_“Put it on the counter, I’ll look at it later.”_

_Steve slammed the file down. “You may strut around here like you rule the roost, but you can’t expect everyone to bend over backwards for you. You have to meet them halfway.”_

_Tony ignored his comments and poured himself another glass. He still wouldn’t look at Steve, and that--and the drinking--were really starting to bother Steve. It reminded him too much of a bombed out bar in London._

_“Are you just going to keep crawling into the bottle? I don’t think Miss Potts would appreciate that.”_

_The glass hit the counter with an audible clink. Steve must have ruffled some feathers with that last one because, finally, Tony turned to Steve,eyes bloodshot and tired._

_He drew himself up and looked Steve in the eye before putting on his sunglasses. “You know what, old man? I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me.”_

_Steve stepped into Tony’s path. “Where are you going?”_

_“Out.”_

_Squaring his shoulders, Steve silently stood his ground. It didn’t have the desired effect; Tony just slipped around him, and Steve didn’t fight him on it. Hours later he found out Tony had been kidnapped while stumbling out of a bar._

✧･ﾟ:*✧

✧･ﾟ:*✧

The night after they caught Rappaccini Steve dreamed that he was in the studio at the art school he attended before money got too tight. The sun came in through the windows to light up a gold sculpture of a feather surrounded by easels. He was small again, and his asthma was acting up. He thought that if he could just finish what he was working on, he could breathe again. He looked down, and it wasn’t the sketch he thought it was. Instead, he held a pile of metal and wires. He didn’t know how to complete it. Stars glinted menacingly in the darkness from the windows behind him. He couldn’t breathe. Everything was exploding around him and water was rushing in. It was so cold, he was freezing. He was burning. There was a live wire in his chest. There was so much water. _He couldn’t breathe_.

Steve woke up from his nightmare covered in sweat. He’s had nightmares before, but never like that. He felt out of breath and as weak as a newborn lamb. He found that he could actually remember some of it this time. It had been some weird amalgam of his own memories and nightmares and Tony’s. With a shudder, he thought that at least the water made sense; he had two sets of memories of drowning. The stars and consuming darkness almost scared him more, and that must have been all Tony.

Tony sometimes talked about what he saw while flying that missile into the wormhole, but Steve hadn’t realized until now that it wasn’t about getting praise. Thoughts of the wormhole, of space, of the void, terrified him, and Tony had never admitted it. Why would he? It wasn’t like anyone else talked about their fears. Steve never talked about drowning and freezing, about being sc--hesitant to make connections with people in case he was torn away from them again. He had a few guesses about what some of the others were afraid of, but they had never said anything.

Until he had all of Tony’s memories, fears, and hang-ups from the past eight years dropped into his head, Steve would have said Tony was fearless. Now he knew he was wrong.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

It was the early hours of the morning, but Steve wasn’t surprised to find Thor in the gym. He invited Steve to spar with him, a common occurrence on the days Thor was actually around. Steve wasn’t surprised to find himself confiding in Thor either. Despite the cultural differences, among other things, they connected over their ideas of leadership and fair play. Well, that and never understanding what Tony was talking about. Thor also had this way of making it seem like he was honored to listen, so Steve didn’t feel so bad about sharing a just a little.

“I think I’m getting his nightmares.” Steve dodged Thor’s swing and lined himself up for a punch. “Some of his habits too.” Thor caught his fist and sent him flying. “I’ve been getting the urge to tap my fingers against my chest.” Steve bounced up off the mat. “The way he used to when he had that thing in his chest.” He circled around Thor, looking for an opening, and once he found one, he pounced.

He wrestled with Thor for a few more minutes before tapping out. They were closely matched, but Thor had the advantage in strength and experience.

“Now that I know what is going on, I’m noticing all sorts of things I have been doing subconsciously. It’s really weird.” Steve stood up and caught his breath.

Thor held out a towel for him. Steve stared at it, willing himself to take it despite his growing sense of unease. It was just a towel, from Thor no less, but it felt like a grenade. It didn’t matter; he could do it. He reached out, but his hand stopped inches away from actually grabbing it. Steve growled in frustration. Thor was starting to look concerned and was going to hang the towel on the ropes when Steve said through gritted teeth, “No. Don’t. I can do this.”

“But you don’t have to. I am long used to friend Anthony’s unusual habits,” Thor said as he gently hung the towel.

Steve stood his ground. “I’m not going to let this beat me.”

“Friend Anthony is a man of strong will, yet he has not overcome this. I think it is not so simple to win against one’s own mind, so do not treat this matter lightly. Allow your friends to accommodate you.” Thor pat Steve’s back.

Steve hadn’t thought of that aspect before. “I guess I had always thought he was doing it to annoy people. I never realized how difficult it was.”

He and Thor hit the showers. Steve had looked forward to washing the sweat away, but when the water hit his face he felt a rising sense of panic. He threw himself back out of the shower, breaking the shower door in the process. Normally, he could hold the memories back, but, he thought hysterically, this was anything but normal.

He waved away Thor’s concerned overtures and headed back to his room wrapped only in a towel. He sat on his bed and stared at the floor until he was dry. He felt like he was falling apart. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t channel his fear like he always had before.

He needed a distraction.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

[Shall I alert Master Stark to your presence?] JARVIS offered after Steve halted in front of the workshop door.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to do this. Talking to Tony probably wasn’t the best distraction for what plagued him. In fact, Tony’s memories seemed to be what was causing it, but Steve knew himself well enough to say that no one derailed Steve’s thoughts like Tony. Besides, backing down now felt too much like running away.

“Yes, please.” He shifted from one foot to the other and said, “Thank you, JARVIS.”

[It is my pleasure.]

A few more seconds passed in silence before Steve asked, “He’s not busy is he?”

The door slid open, and JARVIS intoned, [You may enter.]

As always, Tony’s workshop proved impressive, boasting the same futuristic, minimalist design as the rest of the tower, only multiplied by ten. The host of holograms and trinkets on workbenches kept the curving, glass room from feeling barren, but the man standing front and center was what really brought the room to life. Tony fiddled with a hologram before closing it down to turn to Steve.

Surprised as he was to have Tony’s full attention, Steve still knew better than to say as much. “Thanks for letting me in. Did you hear about what happened?”

“They told me you have my missing memories. What’s it like to remember my incomparable genius?”

Despite Tony’s flippancy, Steve could tell he sought a real answer. It must be difficult to wake up and not recognize that man you’ve become. That almost hit close to home for Steve, but, really, Steve never had much reason to doubt his own character, no matter how his body or environment changed.

“I’ve been getting these sensations and emotions, but nothing is coming through very clear. I’ve only really seen one distinct memory, and it isn’t something you’d want to hear.” Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it either after what happened.

“Fuck what I’d want to hear! Tell me! It’s my memory, I have a right to know.”

Tony was right about deserving to know, however much Steve wanted to protect him from the past. Against Steve’s better judgement, he started talking about it: “I remember you being held down into a drum of dirty water. You were being electrocuted when something in your chest came in contact with the water. The men, they were yelling at me, you, in some language I didn’t know or recognize. I think you were coming up with designs for some sort of device, it must have been the arc reactor, I didn’t understand. I remember not being able to breathe, the taste of the water hitting the back of my throat, my chest on fire.” Steve struggled to stay in the present, even as he was drawn deeper into the memory.

Until a breathless “Jesus” distracted him.

Steve shook himself loose from the memory. He broke the silence that had begun to press in on them by saying, “I’m sorry. I have your memories locked up in my head, but I can hardly tell you about them.”

Tony shrugged and, with an easy grin, said, “Eh, well, hakuna matata.”

Steve could see now how forced that casual expression that Tony always wore was, but chose not to comment on it. “Hakuna matata?”

“It means no worries,” Tony said in a sing-songy voice.

Steve could tell Tony was messing with him. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

Tony nudged him with his elbow. “You’ll get it eventually, Simba.”

“Right, well, I just wanted to see how you are holding up.”

Without making eye contact, he said, “Just dandy.”

“No, really.” Steve didn’t believe him for a second.

Tony sighed exaggeratedly. “I guess I can’t lie to Captain America. It’d be like flipping off Santa Claus.”

Steve laughed and leaned back against a workbench. “I’m nothing like Santa Claus, and I’m asking as a friend. It was a bit different for me, but I know what it’s like to wake up in the future.”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy with work for SI. Most of it is pretty straight forward, but there is some stuff in my notes that is a bit ahead of me, so I’ve been playing catch up. Rhodey’s been trying to get me to watch movies with him. I think he wants me to rest and make sure I don’t go out and have fun without him; either that or he has a crush on Denzel Washington. He was swooning over Flight.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. Rhodes didn’t seem the swooning type. “So life isn’t that different now?”

Tony gave him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Everything is different now. Setting aside that somehow I’ve been flying around in a tin can pretending to be a superhero, Rhodey told me the house I’ve been living in for the past ten years was blown up by a Shakespearian druggie, Obie’s dead, apparently he tried to kill me, and my bots, which have been with me since I was a kid, are sitting in pieces over in the corner.” He gestured to his brood, a pile of wheels, struts, and claws sitting next to Steve’s half repaired motorcycle.

“Uh, you still have Miss Potts and Rhodes.”

“Pepper?” Tony looked like he tasted something sour. “Rhodey told me things are rocky with her now that she’s out in Seattle with Happy. It explains why I’ve only seen her in brief, but awkward video calls so far. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact we dated.”

Steve felt a pang at that. He hadn’t known that Miss Potts had broken up with Tony, but it really explained a lot.

Heedless of Steve’s guilt, Tony continued on, “Yeah, Rhodey is here, but I haven’t spent this much straight time with him since we were kids at MIT. Whenever he’s around, it was for business. We’d make it fun, but it was always about work.”

“What about JARVIS? You remember him, don’t you?”

“He’s changed a lot in really exciting ways. He’s so intuitive now. I remember having to break everything down for him to understand just a couple of weeks ago,” he preened himself, bursting with pride. “Technology has advanced so much, probably thanks to me. Like these holographic displays! I was working with touch screens. All these advances in the past eight years and this is just what’s right here.”  He turned a bit more solemn, and added, “Even my body is different. It’s older, I have the beginnings of wrinkles, but it’s also a bit more toned in places. It feels like my body, but also not. You know?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” Steve smiled and patted Tony’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re talking about this with me.”

“I really normally wouldn’t, but right now you probably know me better than I know myself, so there doesn’t seem to be much point in hiding this.”

“Even with your memories, I wouldn’t really say I know you that well. We didn’t really see eye to eye, and you weren’t the sharing type.”

Before AIM had taken Tony, Steve’s relationship with Tony had been a bit complicated. Most of the time they worked seamlessly on the battlefield, but they had trouble relating off of it. It had been hard to get a read on Tony, Steve always had the sense that he was putting a wall between him and the team. As long as it didn’t affect teamwork, he had been fine with that, but now he was wondering if he should have made more of an effort. It felt nice to have Tony’s trust.

Tony came over and leaned on the workbench beside Steve, close enough their arms brushed each other. “You’re telling me. I'm still trying to figure out why any version of me shut down weapons manufacturing. No matter who I talk to, by which I mean Rhodey and JARVIS, they can’t tell me the real reason.”

“Didn’t it have to do with what happened in Afghanistan?” Steve didn’t really know the details, and all he could remember about it was that awful sensation of drowning.

"I wouldn’t just quit because I was kidnapped. That’s happened to me before. I can only conclude that for some reason, I-- he thought he'd be doing more good making body armor, arrows, and communication arrays for a team of superheroes instead of missiles and landmines.”

“Actually, you didn’t start making stuff for us until much later.”

Tony ignored his comment and started pacing. “Something he saw must have driven him over the edge. I was always told we couldn’t make it without the defense contracts we got from building weapons. I couldn’t care less about feathering my own nest, but it was thanks to that money I could push forward projects to advance medical and agricultural science. I’m good at weapons. I was raised on them. I didn’t want everything I ever made to be about blood, but accepted it as a necessary evil. I've always thought that no matter how dirty it made me feel what I created would help the American people. That for all that I was known as 'The Merchant of Death' I was still doing some good in this world. What was it that changed his mind?"

As the conversation wore on, Steve felt an increasing need to wash his hands, the talk of weapons manufacturing leaving them feeling dirty. An emotion was creeping up on Steve that he almost didn’t recognize: guilt. But, it was nothing like guilt Steve had felt before. Did Tony feel like this all the time?

While absently rubbing his sternum, Steve slowly said, “I’ve never really considered it.” He hadn’t really given it a thought beyond the idea that Tony had suddenly developed a conscience in response to being held hostage which he was beginning to think was wrong. Tony was his teammate, and Steve should have realized by now that Tony wouldn’t be motivated by something so simplistic.

“If you remember anything, tell me.”

“I will” Steve spoke with conviction. If he could help Tony in any way, he would.

Tony, while every bit as sharp and cutting as always, was missing something that the Tony Steve had known possessed. The Tony he’d seen before this was working towards something; he had a clear vision of the future. Now, Tony wasn’t as driven or…haunted, just confused and a bit lost. Steve hadn’t realized Tony had those qualities until now because Tony always tried to show people that nothing affected him, but seeing a version of Tony that looked so lost just highlighted the absence.

Bruce broke the tension between the two of them by entering the lab carrying mugs of coffee. He handed one to Tony, who immediately wandered off whispering sweet nothings into his mug, and turned to apologize to Steve: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were down here, or I would’ve…”

Steve assured him, “No, it’s fine, I can get some later. Is the research team making any progress on reconstructing the machine?”

“No, it was a long shot anyway. Even if the two technologies were compatible, Tony was at the heart of the project, without him the other researchers are dead in the water.”

Steve winced at Bruce’s phrasing and his bleak estimate of their prospects. At least he could still pin his hopes on whatever Natasha and Hill would be able to get out of Monica Rappaccini.

Having finished his coffee quicker than the average person, but nowhere near his record time, Tony practically bounced over to Bruce. “Hey, Wally, I found something in my notes I thought you might be able to explain.”

In the most non-threatening growl Steve had ever heard, Bruce said, “I swear, if it’s another cartoon of the Hulk, I’m going to--”

“No, no, no, it’s pure science Brucie-bear. No more awkward fan porn.” Tony looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh. Steve was glad he managed to connect with Bruce again. They probably needed each other as, from what Steve understood, not many scientists were on their level.

Soon enough, the two of them were incomprehensibly chatting away. Steve watched them for a few moments before he cut into their conversation: “Well, I’m going to head out and leave you to your science.”

Bruce stopped him before he left. “Oh, Hey. I saw Sam not too long ago. You might be able to find him in the TV room.”

He left Bruce and Tony to find Sam, who had finally returned from looking for Bucky. Steve had originally been out there helping him, but then the Avengers needed him, so he let Sam talk him into leaving it to him.

It wasn’t easy trusting people after finding out almost all your co-workers were part of a Nazi organization you died to end, but Sam was a great friend. He was one of the few people Steve really could count on for the things that mattered. Steve hadn’t intended to get that close, but he was glad Sam made the effort to bridge the gap. He was glad to have him and Natasha by his side. It would never be the same as him and Bucky, but they were people he could trust.

Sam got up from the couch to greet him with a hug. “Hey, man I hear some freaky stuff happened while I was gone.”

“Not really, Tony got kidnapped, Natasha and I went on a manhunt, Thor broke twitter, and Clint clogged the vents. You know the normal stuff.”

The two of them broke off their hug and relaxed into the couch. “I’m talking about Stark’s memories. First, it turns out he has amnesia like some soap opera then you find out you have them. It must be weird having another guy’s past in your head.”

“It’s not too bad really. I mean, I don’t actually remember much of it right now. Sometimes I get a sense of how he felt about things, but it’s no big deal.”

“These feelings aren’t tripping you up at all?”

“For the most part, no,” Steve hedged, reluctant to talk about it, but as usual Sam’s patient demeanor won out. “Not too long ago I felt his guilt, and it’s really different from any time I’ve felt guilty before.”

“Hold the phone, Captain America has things he feels guilty about?” he joked, playfully elbowing Steve in the side.

Steve had made a lot of compromises during the war, but as much as he felt bad about some of them, he’d make the same decisions again. Without doing what he did, the world might have turned out a whole lot worse. Sam knew about these sorts of things; he’d had to make tough calls, too. So, Steve didn’t talk about any of that.

Instead, he said, “Of course I do! There was the time I called the woman next door an old hag, and the time I threw mud at all the windows on the house across the street because the man who lived there wouldn’t give my ball back.” Sam was chuckling away, and Steve realized that he wasn’t making his point, so he brought up the worst thing he ever did: “I let Bucky fall and just left him there.”

Sam stopped laughing. “I’ve told you before that wasn’t your fault.”

“If had known, heck, if had reached a bit further, quicker, things wouldn’t be like this now. He’d be with me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Anyway, what about that guilt you got from Stark?”

“I don’t know what it is, but it makes me feel dirty and sick.”

“The way people experience guilt can vary. I’ve never talked to Stark about this stuff, but there might be a reason why his guilt is different from yours.”

_It wasn’t your fault_ , Peggy had said that. Natasha told him the same thing, and Sam seemed to be doing everything he could to reinforce the idea. On some level Steve knew it was true, even if he didn’t really believe it, but now he was certain no one ever said that to Tony.

Steve suddenly became conscious of the possibility that these weren’t really his feelings to share. Sam wasn’t Tony’s friend, wasn’t someone he trusted. Steve had no right to expose Tony like that, even if it was to someone Steve trusted. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this; I should have realized sooner that this is something personal for Tony. I have no right to share it.”

Sam shook his head. “This is a weird situation, and I’m all about respecting privacy, but if something is bothering you, it’s probably better to work through it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve lied.

Sam gave an easy shrug. “That’s fine man. Let’s get some coffee. The jet lag is killing me.”

“That’d be great.”

They headed for the coffee shop in the lobby, but before they got there, Steve’s Avenger alert went off. Resigned, Steve headed back up the elevator to the operations room. It was filled with the usual sort of organized chaos. He exchanged a look with Natasha which he hoped said that he was fine and not to make a fuss about what happened in Italy.

Looking at the gathered Avengers, Hill announced, “There’s trouble in Vermont. We’ve got some sort of mad scientist who wants to rule the world and thinks he has the foolproof plan to do it.”

She outlined everything they knew so far about the situation. At first Steve didn’t think twice about Tony being there, it was such a normal sight for him, but then he remembered that there was no way Tony could participate in missions now; he was still injured and without his memories he had no combat experience or knowledge of how to operate the suit.

Steve gently pulled Tony aside and told him, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Defiant and puffed up, he stated, “I’m an Avenger too.”

“Right now, you’re not.” Steve hated losing Tony from the team, even temporarily, but he really couldn’t have him out in the field in this condition. It was recipe for disaster.It made Steve’s heart ache to do it, but he never let it stop him before.

As expected, Tony did not take this well. He spat, “Fine” and stormed off.

Steve should have known that that wouldn’t be the end of it. Ten minutes later, they found Tony trying to access his suits after JARVIS alerted them. Apparently, it was a protocol Tony had put in place to prevent him from piloting the suit when drunk or otherwise impaired. Steve thanked God that JARVIS counted memory loss as “otherwise impaired.” The Avengers watched as he banged on a control panel that continuously locked him out in frustration.

“Tony, stop.” Steve couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Just sit this one out.”

“I still have the suits. I can do this.” There was a strained quality to Tony’s voice as he said that, and the last few words weren’t infused with his usual confidence.

“You’re still injured, you don’t have any experience out in the field with us, and you’ve never even flown in the suit. Let us handle it,” Steve pleaded for Tony to listen for once. He needed Tony to stay safe.

Tony peered back at Steve and deflated a bit. He let Rhodes lead him away, unresisting. As they left the room, Steve heard Rhodes saying, “Come on man. There are still some great movies you missed.”


	4. Chapter 4

The Avengers wrapped up the fight in Vermont pretty quickly. It would have gone smoother if Iron Man was there, but Falcon did an excellent job with aerial support. Steve frankly preferred this kind of work to busting Hydra bases and taking on AIM. He had a much more personal stake in those kinds of missions, but there was something comforting about taking out giant rabid badgers rather than humans.

They apprehended the mad scientist that was responsible for created them, ignoring his rants about armies and badgers that don’t give a shit. Steve really couldn’t understand what went through these people’s minds. For some reason, Clint was giggling the whole time. He’d be perfectly serious during missions, but as soon as the battle was over he was the second to crack a joke, the first being Tony who didn’t stop joking at all.

But Tony wasn’t here, and aside from Clint’s post-battle giggles, things had been a bit somber. Steve had never thought he’d miss the chatter on the com-lines. Of course, the mood lightened considerably when Thor and Clint teamed up to beg him to let the team go to Ben & Jerry’s for ice cream. Apparently, the factory was close to where the badgers were set loose.

They set down in the back of the parking lot an hour before the store closed for the day. It was still pretty crowded. With the exception of Bruce, who elected to wait in the quinjet, the Avengers hopped into the obscenely long line. Clint was talking about his favorite flavors, all of them had strange names like Fish Food and American Dream, the second of which he insisted was the flavor Steve should get. Sam came back by suggesting that by that logic he should order Chocolate Therapy. Natasha was doing the thing where she is laughing without actually showing any expression. Thor was getting more excited by the minute, unlike Steve, he actually was familiar with Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, which he informed him, was available at supermarkets in “small parcels more valuable than their weight in gold”. Which explained why Steve hadn’t really heard of it as he avoided the freezer section during the rare times he actually went to the supermarket. He had a thing about fresh food.

Steve was glad he was going to be the last of the Avengers to order because the flavor list was a bit confusing. He looked up a few of the more interesting flavors while everyone else ordered, ignoring the nagging suspicion that it wasn’t only because of inflation that the prices seemed expensive. Clint got a cup of something called Half-Baked. Thor got something called a Vermonster, which was a sundae in a bucket. Steve kind of felt like calling a bucket was understating it actually, but the really scary thing was that he didn’t doubt that Thor could eat it by himself. Actually, Steve probably could do it, too. Natasha ordered a tiny cone of something called From Russia with Buzz, Clint choked on his ice cream when he heard them call the order. Steve wasn’t sure if she was messing around or genuinely liked it. Sam ordered a large cone of Oatmeal Cookie Chunk with walnuts.

In the end Steve ordered a large cone of Cinnamon Buns. He also requested a small Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz in an insulated to-go bag based on a gut feeling. Their order complete, they headed for the quinjet, bringing Bruce’s requested cup of Cherry Garcia.

They ate their ice cream in quinjet. Clint had finished his ice cream and tried sneaking some of Thor’s while he turned away to chat with Natasha, making a game of it. Natasha might actually have been purposely distracting Thor, but if she was, she was really good at it because Steve couldn’t tell for sure. Sam let Steve taste some of his ice cream, it was very similar to what he ordered, with the cinnamon flavors coming through, but Steve actually liked the Oatmeal Cookie Chunk a bit better than his Cinnamon Buns. Next time he’d order that.

They got back to New York not much later, Steve stored the extra cup and a note in the freezer then rounded everyone up for a debriefing. Still sticky from ice cream, they went with only minor complaints.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

“Not so tough without your frisbee are you?” Sam blustered after landing his first punch.

Steve grinned, glad to finally have a chance to spar with Sam in the gym. It wasn’t something they got to do often with Sam out looking for Bucky most of the time. Sam grinned back.

“Yeah,” Steve joked, “ I’m going down real easy.”

It was very different from sparring with Thor, Clint, or Natasha. Thor was Steve’s match in strength and possessed many years of experience; Clint and Natasha had a level of skill and training that Steve couldn’t come close to. All three of them were a challenge.

Sam presented a different kind of challenge. Sam’s true strength lay in the air, but he could hold his own on ground level, against a normal person that is. He was the perfect stand in for your average military trained hand-to-hand fighter. The kind of person Captain America might come up against and have to avoid killing.

Steve pulled his punches, the point of this being not to beat Sam, but to sharpen both of their skills. Sam was good enough that Steve couldn’t just take him out without doing some real damage, but Steve’s superior speed and reflexes made it difficult for Sam to gain the upper hand as well.

They parted, Sam breathing heavily, Steve just breathing. They waited for the other one to make a move. Sam darted forward first. The next exchange of blows ended with Sam on the mat.

Sam rolled over and groaned, “Is that all you got?”

“ _Is that all you got?_ Cheap trick and a cheesy one liner?” The burning, glowing woman pulled herself from the kitchen floor. She hadn’t noticed the microwave.

Pressed against the wall, he opened the gas valve and said, “Sweetheart, that could be the name of my autobiography.” Then, he was out the door.

When the explosion hit, he took shelter behind the door to an ice box, the cold metal biting into his hands. The door came off when he lurched away in the aftermath, ears ringing. People screamed, and the world spun as he continued staggering, tripping over a wood cart in the process.

The woman hung there, flung into the powerlines by the blast. He wasn’t sure if she was dead, but he didn’t get to dwell on it because a loud clang startled him; the support strut to a water tower was breaking. Throwing himself through a cluster of Christmas trees, he already heard the other supports cracking.

The crash-boom- crash -crash of the water tower falling didn’t prepare him for the flood of water and debris. It tossed him about, caught him between bits of metal as rusty-tasting water rushed over him. If he just held on, the waters would recede.

When he could breathe again, his leg was stuck. Only it wasn’t.

He was still in the gym, clutching the ring’s ropes hard. Sam stood a short distance away, talking to Steve, slow and soft. His voice calmed Steve enough that he could let go of the ropes.

Sam sat down beside him and asked, “What happened?”

Steve wrung his hands. “It was one of Tony’s memories. It happened like that before in Italy.”

“You mean you had a flashback?”

Steve nodded.

“You didn’t mention that.”

Steve pulled his fists into his lap. “I had a handle on it.”

“You sure about that?”

Sam raised his eyebrow, like he thought Steve was being monumentally stupid, which he probably was if Sam thought so, but this wasn’t Sam’s burden to bear. Steve already asked enough of Sam. Besides, he meant what he said before about having no right to share Tony’s memories.

Steve nodded. “I’m doing fine on my own.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Warm sunlight lit the halls of the tower, bouncing off glass and polished stone. It was mid-morning, and Steve had finished his pre-dawn run, made breakfast for the team, and finished his routine in the gym. He had been pleased to find the ice cream was no longer in the freezer, having been replaced, oddly enough, with a screw driver.

He let out a big toothy yawn. He still wasn’t sleeping well, all his dreams turning to nightmares in short order. If he managed to sleep at all, he woke up gasping. About half the time, he’d go down to the gym and workout, but the other half was spent sketching, something he’d hardly done in years.

At first, drawing had just been something to do while sick in bed. Steve could explore places he'd never seen and make people smile with the portraits he drew. He used his art to say things he didn't know how to or didn't want to put into words. When his mother died, one of the first things he did was draw her as he remembered her. He'd get caught up in putting something together piece by piece until he had a whole picture, something that he had created. Art was freedom, expression, and remembrance. It had been so many things to him, yet he had stopped.

Full of the restless sort of energy that comes from avoiding sleep too long, Steve wandered the tower looking for something to put on paper. While passing through the lounge, he saw a flash of red and gold through the windows. He didn’t waste a second in heading outside to confront the idiot.

“What are you doing?” Steve shouted to the wobbling figure.

“I gotta spread my wings, Cap. Leave the nest and learn to fly.” Tony grew steadier as he took a slow loop around the balcony. “See? I’m getting the hang of this!”

Steve couldn’t believe he had to deal with this, but then again he should have expected it--Tony would always be Tony. “Land! You shouldn’t be out here! Your arm is still healing.”

“The suit supports my arm fine. This is practically physical therapy.”

Steve started to lose what little patience he had. “Tony!”

“Loosen up! Have a little fun!” Tony was now doing twirls in mid-air and completely ignoring Steve’s concern.

“I’m getting Rhodes.” Steve turned to head back in and find someone that could actually stop Tony, but before he reached the door, he was scooped up by Iron Man. Steve felt the world tilt as metal arms came up underneath his legs and back and gave a startled shout.

Tony ignored his protests and started going higher in the air with Steve clinging tightly to the armor. “Come on! Sometimes you have to run before you can walk!”

And then Steve remembered saying those exact words, remembered the exhilaration of that first flight he, no, _Tony_ took in the skies of Malibu. With the moon and stars closer than ever, he had felt an uplifting sense of freedom and adventure. He could dare to do what he never could before.

He let out a whoop of joy in Tony’s arms as they flew over New York. The memories came easier after that; Steve could now recall dozens of flights like this. Tony owned the New York skyline, and Steve had never realized it. No matter how estranged from the city he became, Steve always thought of it as home, but he was realizing that Tony knew it in a way he never could have, until now.

The air whistled past as they spiraled around skyscrapers and glided underneath bridges. Soaring over Brooklyn, they saw the neighborhoods Steve lived and grew up in. Tony looped back around and followed the East River out to the harbor, skimming the water on the way. They went as far out as Lady Liberty and stood on her crown. Tony took Steve high up and showed him the city laid out below them; the view of the city they loved breathtaking. With a rush of speed, they came down to earth back in Midtown.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

✧･ﾟ:*✧

They lounged outside the New York Public Library as they ate the hot dogs they purchased from a nearby cart, and Steve told Tony a bit about what he remembered while they were flying. They could have gone to a café, but they just wanted a quick snack before lunch. Steve didn’t have his wallet, but, for some reason, Tony had a compartment on his suit he could fish his own out of. Tony finished his and took a bite of one of the dogs in Steve’s hands.

Tony pouted when Steve pulled his hot dog away. “What? I paid for it.”

“You could have asked. I don’t mind sharing,” Steve admonished, but he wasn’t really angry, not with the image of Tony looking at him, mischief in his eyes, biting the hot dog in his hand. That probably wouldn’t leave him for a while.

Still trying to get his heartbeat under control, Steve startled when Tony hip checked him and nodded over to where a couple of teenagers were taking pictures with their phones. Soon fans were swarming them. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before the real paparazzi hunted them down. Steve always felt uncomfortable with the public attention; it always made him feel like he was part of a menagerie. Of course, he understood the need for a symbol. He put on his uniform because he understood that. He also liked seeing and talking with the people he worked so hard to protect, but he didn’t like the focus on him, he wanted to hear about their lives.

Tony on the other hand, who should have been no stranger to the public eye, seemed surprised when the first child came running up. He awkwardly greeted his fans, but his hesitance quickly transformed into playfulness, particularly around the kids.

After seeing the way Tony smiled at his tiny fans, Steve decided he didn’t mind staying out for a while. They signed autographs and took pictures with the people who approached them. At one point, Tony called out to a little girl holding what was clearly a homemade Iron Man mask. It was quite advanced for a kid’s creation, but the paint job gave it away.

“Look at this! Very nice. Did you make it?” The girl nodded then whispered something in his ear. “Well, we can fix that.” He pulled out some tools from a compartment on the suit and helped the girl fix a loose wire in the mask’s interior. At last, after a bit of fiddling, he chirped, “There you go, Hushpuppy.”

The girl squeaked out a “Thank you!” and scampered back to her parents.

Steve’s own collection of pint-sized admirers crowded him. One of them shuffled forward, a small boy with a complexion that suggested Middle-Eastern descent, but as soon as he noticed Steve’s attention on him, he stalled out and started looking at his shoes. Steve was never sure what to do with the shy ones. He knew that quite often he was these kids’ hero and he wanted their meeting to be a good memory, but he struggled with making the connection they deserved.

He settled for crouching down in front of the kid and saying, “Hey, did you want to say hello? I don’t bite. What’s your name?”

If it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, Steve wouldn’t have heard the soft voice that whispered, “Daniel.” Brown eyes peered up at him through wavy bangs.

“It’s nice to meet you, Daniel.”

Steve was surprised when he felt little arms wrap around his neck in a hug. Sometimes he forgot how unabashedly affectionate kids could be; he kind of envied that trait. He felt like he should probably say something inspiring, but Daniel just seemed happy with the hug. To be honest, it lifted Steve’s spirits, too. Soon enough, Daniel was pulled away by his father, who, like many, had his fill of New York’s resident heroes.

With the crowd was dying a down a bit, Tony leaned over to Steve and said, “Let’s head back.”

This time, instead of carrying Steve in his arms, Tony had him wrap his arms around his neck and stand on his boots before takeoff. Steve could feel the blood rushing to his face. Flying like this was intimate, if it weren’t for the helmet, they probably could have felt their breath on each other’s faces. There was an exhilarating sense of freedom that came with holding on and trusting Tony. Steve could see doing this more often as it had a lot of untapped potential in battle if nothing else.

At some point, Tony had mentioned creating a suit with better handholds, but it had yet to happen. He was most useful on the ground and probably wouldn’t need to spend long in the air with Iron Man, so Steve hadn’t seen the appeal until now, but then again, the few times he had flown with Tony during missions it hadn’t been quite like this.

It really should have been just a quick hop back to the tower. It was right there after all, a few blocks away. However, just as they were closing in, the side of the building blew out, broken glass scattering onto the streets below. At the same time, one of the news helicopters that regularly circled above dove down to scoop up a figure standing in the broken window.

Steve cursed, wishing desperately he had his shield. His uniform and earpiece would be nice too, but it was the shield he really ached for.

“Hill just contacted me. That’s Rappaccini. She just broke out,” Tony said, his last words almost drowned out by a rush of noise.

Steve just barely had time to see the blast coming their way before Tony twisted in the air, taking the brunt of the impact on his back as he held tight to Steve. It sent them tumbling out of the air. Still, Tony shielded him as they hit a nearby roof and rolled across it. Steve could hear muffled screaming from within armor.

They came to a stop, a flower box at the lip of the roof preventing them from falling off the edge. Tony disentangled himself from Steve and struggled unsteadily to his feet, crushing a few yellow flowers in the process. He flew off after the helicopter like a bolt of crimson, leaving Steve behind on the roof. Steve watched uselessly as Tony ripped off the helicopter door and grabbed Rappaccini. Though his movements were not as graceful as usual, they proved effective, nonetheless. She tried to shoot him with some sort of weapon, possibly the one she had wielded earlier, but she lost her grip when Tony’s arms closed around her.  She writhed in Tony’s grasp then disappeared. A moment later, Steve noticed her on a nearby roof and charged at her, leaping over the gap between roofs.

Steve was seconds away from capturing her when she disappeared again.

“She has a teleportation device!” Tony called out, just as Steve drew the same conclusion.

Steve shouted, “It must be short distance only. Iron Man, scan for her.”

“On it!” Then, Tony pointed to a building behind Steve. “She’s there, eleventh floor.”

Steve quickly realized he wouldn’t be able to get over there in time. However, it turned out he didn’t have to. Sam, in his Falcon gear dove through a window in the building Tony indicated. Thor positioned himself on the roof of that same building, Clint likely perched somewhere nearby. Still lacking his earpiece, Steve couldn’t hear anyone besides Tony, and that was only because Tony put himself on speaker.

“She’s in the street!” Tony yelled.

Immediately, Thor jumped down to face her, landing on the hood of a car. Masses of people shoved in every direction to get away, to approach Thor, to stay where they were. It took Steve a few minutes to locate Rappaccini strong arming her way through the crowd; Thor must have had the same problem because he didn’t move after her straight away. He had only taken a few steps towards her when she fiddled with her belt and teleported away again.

Steve called out, “Iron Man?”

“I can’t find her! She might be underground!” Tony flew down and wrapped his left arm around Steve’s waist. “Hold on”

He gripped Tony’s shoulder as they shot off toward the tower. “No! We need to be down there!”

Tony didn’t stop. “There are agents down there combing the subway for her. We’ll just get in the way. You’ll be able to keep track of things better in the tower anyway.”

Steve was shocked. Tony never just let someone else take care of something like this; he’d dive right into it and do it himself.

Once they touched down, Steve raced to the command center. He could feel Rappaccini getting further out of his reach as each moment passed. By the time he got there, the relaxed and easy manner that came out during his jaunt through the city with Tony was gone. His smile had long faded into a neutral expression, and he slipped into the perfect posture of a trained soldier. JARVIS and Hill updated him on the situation; apparently, she broke out by taking one of the guards feeding her hostage.

He watched the hunt for Rappaccini unfold on the displays JARVIS pulled up for him. Finally with his own connection to the comms, he gave what direction he could. Police, agents, and Avengers looked high and low for her, but hours passed without a sign. Nothing turned up even though they combed every corner, alley, and subway in New York. Eventually, they had no choice but to call off the search.

After Steve finished calling everyone in, JARVIS passed along a message from Dr. Sondheim: Tony had exacerbated the break in his arm during the battle, and under no circumstances should he be let near the suits again. He had already told Rhodey, who had been the one to keep Tony away from the suits thus far. Tony would be livid when he found out that his AI went behind his back to tell people the doctor’s warnings.

The thought of Tony’s no doubt hilarious reaction was not enough to mitigate the sting of failure. It was almost a physical sensation, hitting Steve right in the heart. He was responsible, not only for Rappaccini’s escape, but for Tony’s injury. He knew damn well Tony shouldn’t have been out and definitely shouldn’t have been in a battle. Steve should have realized, should have done more to get Tony somewhere safe.

That was on him, but right now he needed to coordinate with Hill to organize the hunt for Rappaccini. Since both of them had experience in tracking people, Natasha and Clint came by to give their input, as well. The rest of the team was being patched up and sent to bed.

A dark cloud hung over them as they sat down in the meeting room to discuss their next course of action. It was generally agreed that the situation wasn’t looking good.

“It was luck that we found her that quickly last time,” Hill explained.

“Since we busted her last bolt hole,” Clint said, “ she’s going to be much more careful now.”

“I could get in contact with Sharon. The CIA might have something,” Steve suggested.

Hill looked grim. “That’s a start, but it’s not going to get us far. We’ll keep going over what we have. There are still a lot of AIM scientists and lackeys in our custody.”

That wasn’t good enough. Ignoring the ache in his chest, Steve said, “We can’t just wait around! Tony needs us to find her!”

Natasha looked Steve in the eye and said, “Listen, it’s only a matter of time. We’re going to find everyone who ever associated with her or other members of AIM.  A lead will turn up somewhere and, when it does, we’ll be there.”

“Stark can hold on until then,” Hill said, sternly.

“He’s having a blast,” Clint snickered.

“Tony isn’t the only one we need to be worried about,” Natasha said with a glance at Steve that would have been called pointed if it wasn’t overlaid with such concern. He’d have appreciated it more if she wasn’t questioning his abilities.

Steve shrugged it off. “I’m fine,” he said, before heading off to make his call.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

The click of the phone as Sharon hung up did not ease any of Steve’s anxiousness. She agreed to keep an eye out, but didn’t seem to think her chances were any better than the Avengers. He wanted to contribute something to this manhunt, but felt pretty useless at the moment. He tried to relax into the couch furnishing the apartment Tony was letting him stay in while he searched for a place in Brooklyn.

“Want to get some pizza?” a voice called from the vents.

Steve looked up at Clint who had his head sticking out of the grate. “I told you to stop that.”

“Come on! I’m just having a bit of fun.”

“It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m a spy, invading privacy is my way of life. Besides, I’m doing it as a friend.” Clint pulled himself from the vent and plopped down on the couch. Thankfully, Tony kept extraordinarily clean air vents, probably because of Clint, so there wasn’t dust everywhere.

“Real friends knock on the door,” he informed him.

Clint said, brightly, “You’re just being grumpy. I know what will fix it: pizza.”

“I don’t want pizza. We need to find Rappaccini.”

“We aren’t going to find her in the next few hours. We’ve done everything we can for now, and you look like you could use some fresh air. Let’s go down the street and get some pizza.”

“There must be something we should be doing,” Steve said, grouchily.

Clint shook his head. “Nope. It’s pretty much all covered until someone digs up something we can act on. You’ve must have had times like this during the war, right? You know ‘hurry up and wait’? That was a thing right?”

Steve growled, “It’s different. I can’t just wait around while something is wrong.”

Clint threw his hands up in the air. “That’s why I’m telling you, you need to get out. I want some pizza. I know you’re hungry; you always are, so let’s go get some. It’ll be great. We’ll eat like ten pies between the two of us. If we grab Thor, we could make it twenty.”

Maybe Clint was right. It wouldn’t hurt to humor him.

“Ten pies? You’re selling yourself short there.” Steve typically ate about five.

Clint smirked then, with great sadness, admitted, “I’m only human.”

“You know, Tony was really fond of this one place here in New York, he’d have it flown in to California. Let’s see if it’s as good as he remembers,” Steve said, thoughtfully.

Clint grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Hunger satisfied for the moment, Steve looked for Tony and found him perched in front of the bar in the lounge. Rhodey was with him, drinking, talking about nothing in particular, and gesturing with a bottle in his hand. It was an achingly familiar sight.

They had done this dozens of time over the years, less so recently, but Steve could remember it clearly. The memories just welled up, like they had when flying with Tony. Rhodey liked to talk after knocking back a few drinks. He’d lecture, tell stories, and joke around. While he loved micro-brewed beers, what he really couldn’t resist was _sake_. He’d go along with Tony’s stupid plans unless he was mad at him, which was often. He had always been protecting Tony, telling him to live up to his potential.

Steve’s thoughts wandered to Bucky, how Bucky had always been there for him when he had a bad day, when he was sick or when he got in a fight that he couldn’t finish. Tony’s friendship with Rhodey wasn’t that different. Steve could remember some of the more painful ups and downs of their friendship, but Rhodes was good for Tony, just like Bucky had always been for Steve. He was glad Tony had someone there for him.

Steve turned away from the happy scene. Tony had only a handful of memories of Steve since waking up in the hospital, the tense comradery that had formed between them was gone. No matter what memories were floating around in Steve's head, he wasn't a part of Tony's world. He didn’t even know why he had been looking for Tony; he had just wanted to see him.


	5. Chapter 5

“There has been a break in the case.”

Natasha’s announcement came when Steve and Sam were fully engaged in making breakfast following their return from their morning run. Steve squeezed the juice from the last of the oranges, while over by the stove Sam continued making pancakes, only glancing over to see Natasha sweep into the room with Bruce at her side.

“A minor one,” she clarified, “but, still, it’s a break.”

“What have you got?” Steve’s hopes soared. Even the smallest possibility of progress could grow into something bigger. He gulped down some orange juice and waited to hear the good news. Sam didn’t stop cooking, but he was clearly listening too.

Sensing their eagerness, Natasha didn’t hesitate: “We have reason to believe that Rappaccini is not the true inventor of the machine.”

Nodding, Bruce added, “She had put on a good show, but before she escaped, it was starting to become clear she didn’t fully understand the science behind it.”

“None of her work was in that area and she’s been known to steal other people’s research,” Natasha said with a glance at Bruce. “According to some of the members of AIM we rooted out in Rome, Rappaccini had been regularly consulting with someone outside the organization. We’ve identified her and determined that she is a hired thief. We believe she was hired to steal research from Rappaccini’s competitors. Right now we are working on bringing the thief in.”

Encouraged by the news so far, Steve asked, “Do we know who the stolen research is from?”

“Not yet, that’s some of the information we were hoping to get from her.” Natasha wiped some flour from Steve’s sleeve.

A plate of pancakes appeared in front of Steve courtesy of Sam. They steamed appetizingly, and Steve wasted no time pouring syrup on them. Sam turned to look at their two guests. “Are you having some?”

“I wish to partake in your pancakes,” Thor boomed from the doorway, surprising nearly everyone.

Natasha, the only one unfazed by the surprisingly sneaky god of thunder, shook her head. “Your pancakes are great, but I’ve got work to do.”

Thor seemed a little saddened, but turned to Bruce with a hopeful look on his face. “What of you, Dr. Banner? Surely you wish to join our breakfast?”

Bruce rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks, but I also need to work. I’m helping the research team reassemble the remains of the machine, for all the good it’s doing us. ”

Bruce and Natasha ignored Thor’s obvious disappointment and started for the door.

“We’re going to head out now,” Bruce said.

Thor sighed, but when they passed him, he said, “I bid thee a good day,” as though he were trying to impart some sort of blessing.

Steve watched them go while listening to Sam tell Thor, “Hey, man, if you want some pancakes you got to help out. If I have to make enough pancakes for you and Steve, I’m going to be standing here all day.”

Steve sighed and said, “I’ll make some more batter.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

The soft cant of French drifted outside the door to the movie room. Pushing the door open, Steve stepped in and saw someone put a cigarette out on a dessert on the screen. There was a flash of a blonde woman’s face. That was all Steve caught before the film was abruptly turned off.

Tony immediately squawked, “What? Rhodey! I was watching that!”

He stretched across the couch to wrestle the remote back from Rhodey, his shirt hiking up in the process. The sliver of skin that revealed was surprisingly pale, perhaps appearing more so with the contrast of his black t-shirt, but definitely a shade lighter than anything else visible. It was just barely possible to make out some of the muscle definition that was normally so well covered.

“Hey, Cap. What brings you here?” Rhodey asked with a guilty expression, ignoring Tony’s grabbing hands.

Steve’s head snapped up and, in an attempt to remain casual, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to tell Tony we’ve made some progress on fixing his memories. There is someone who stole research from the real inventor of the memory device for Rappaccini and might be able to help us find him. It’s not much, but it looks promising. You’ll be flying around in no time.”

“That’s good. Looking forward to it.” Tony said, halfheartedly, having given up on taking back the remote. Steve stumbled over Tony’s reaction, concerned that Tony didn’t even try to joke or brag about anything. Steve took a few steps forward as he sought Tony’s gaze, but Tony kept his eyes firmly on the black screen of the television.

Left feeling off kilter, Steve said, “Anyway, I’ll let you know when we find out more.”

He couldn’t resist patting Tony’s shoulder before he forced himself back to his room to sketch for a while. The itch to make new things had driven him to fill up several sketchbooks. Some of his drawings had turned into nonsensical machines, but most were the same things he had always drawn: cartoons, portraits, and landscapes. He still had views of the New York skyline and scenes from Italy that he wanted to get down onto paper. Inspiration hadn’t struck Steve so strongly in a long time.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Through the one-way glass Steve saw Natasha at work as she poked at their lead--a woman whose black hair shrouded her face, but presented a striking figure nonetheless. Natasha displayed her mastery, acting out a character that was both threatening and vulnerable in turns as she drew the last of the information she wanted from the thief. Steve had only caught the last few moments of the interrogation, Natasha’s ability amazed him.

Natasha slipped from the interrogation room to update Steve. “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Isn’t it always like that? What is the good news?” Steve stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for his floor.

“We know who the real inventor of the machine is.” She pulled up a file on her tablet and put it in front of Steve. “His name is Grigor Ivanovich Pchelintsov. He worked in the Red Room.”

If it was the Red Room, then: “You knew him?”

Natasha clasped her hands and simply said, “Yes.”

In silence, they moved from the elevator over to Steve’s apartment. Natasha took a deep breath; this was the most unsettled Steve had seen her since they found out that SHIELD was Hydra. He knew she didn’t like talking about her past, and for good reason, what little was in the files released to the public was bloody. She had every reason to want to move past that.

Once settled on the couch, she steadily started telling him, “His work for the Red Room involved the implantation of false memories. All of the girls in the Black Widow program were made to believe that we had been trained in ballet at a theatre in Moscow. They wanted us to be deep-cover agents, completely undetectable because even we didn’t know we were anything other than dancers.”

Her voice cracked a little as she admitted, “I can still recall those memories. I know they aren’t real, but sometimes I wish they were.”

Carefully, Steve wrapped his arms around Natasha and began stroking her hair. He wasn’t much good at this sort of comforting, and he thought she might feel awkward about it, too, but both of them accepted the gesture for what it was: a friend offering what he could. Natasha didn’t cry, didn’t sob into his shoulder. She was too controlled for that, but she did, however, relax into the hug, and Steve took that for the victory it was. They stayed that way for less than a minute, neither of them particularly prone to showing this sort of affection.

“Anyway, he retired sometime after I left. It seems he had been working on a method of extracting memories from subjects.” Natasha continued where she left off, but the air between them had changed.

“That sounds familiar.”

Natasha nodded. “Exactly. Rappaccini somehow got wind of this and secretly hired that thief to steal the research. The bad news is that she couldn’t tell us Pchelintsov’s current location. She got the designs from an older research facility.”

“What are we going to do?” Steve desperately needed to get out on the ground. Even with the good intentions of his teammates, he was getting wound up just sitting here. He’d be doing so much better with a mission.

“ _I’m_ going to find some of the staff that worked in the Red Room. Most of the important members were recruited into different organizations, but the grunts largely ended up working for the Bratva, the Russian mafia.”

Ignoring her subtle exclusion of him from the mission, he asked, “We can find Pchelintsov this way?”

She shrugged. “There are still a couple of other leads Clint and the agents are working.”

“But nothing as good as this one,” he guessed.

Unhappily, she said, “No, they aren’t as likely.”

The silence sat heavily between them. Steve knew what Natasha was going to say before she said it. He also knew he was going to fight it with everything he had. He trusted her, but he wasn’t going to give in on this one.

“Listen, you should stay behind for this one.”

“If this is about the flashbacks, I have a handle on it. The last few times I remembered something, I was fine.” He recalled all sorts of things after flying with Tony yet he managed to keep his head on straight, before that with Sam…it wasn’t good, but he didn’t consider it an issue. He could handle it.

Natasha pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Define fine.”

“Aware of my surroundings and reactions. It was only that bad in Italy because I didn’t know what was going on.” That and he already had memories of drowning, so, of course, remembering it twice over was going to hit him hard. “I’ve been in two battles since then and nothing has happened.”

“It’s true that I didn’t notice you having any trouble in Vermont, but I don’t think we should take a chance on things will remaining that way.”

“Tony is vulnerable without his memories.”

“I care about him, too.” Natasha shifted back to look Steve in the eye. “Let me handle it on my own.”

“No, I need to be there,” he growled.

“You’re compromised,” she said, flatly.

“What about you? I can tell that this hits a little too close to home,” he said, fiercely before the rage seeped out of him. “Sorry. I can’t sit around while Tony needs me, and I don’t want you to have to do this alone. I trust you to keep me on track. Can you do the same?”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

With their destination as St. Petersburg, they boarded a plane to Russia, landing in Pulkovo Airport. To Steve’s relief, their disguises and fake identities held up through airport security. Still, his nervousness persisted as Natasha led them through the city.

A stiff breeze blew through the rain-slicked streets. It wasn’t terribly cold, but compared to Italy and New York it was a bit on the cool side. The damp weather soaked into Steve’s bones, making him feel chillier than he should have despite his slightly higher than average body temperature.

As they crossed a bridge over the Griboedov Canal, Natasha explained that she was looking for some minor staff member from the Red Room. If he didn’t know where Pchelintsov was hiding, he’d be able to tell her someone who did.

They continued walking until they reached a bar in the seedier part of the city. Steve was stuck waiting in the bar for Natasha to come back. He fiddled with one of the gadgets Tony had given him before they left.

Tony had seemed to have recovered from whatever was causing his bad mood when Steve talked to him earlier. As soon as Steve had walked into the lab, Tony slid a wristwatch in front of Steve and explained that it could produce a shield made out of hard light. It couldn’t be thrown, but it was more than good enough to block bullets. Steve wondered if Tony had made it from scratch or if it was something he had been working on before he lost his memories. Either way, he was constantly amazed at what Tony proved capable of.

Putting on his English accent again, Tony had warned, “It is to be handled with special care!”

Steve replied, “Everything you give me...”

“...is treated with equal contempt. Yes, I know,” Tony finished.

As much as Steve had fun acting as Bond to Tony’s Q, he was really growing tired of acting like a spy. Tony made a great Q, but he was better suited to the role of Bond than Steve. Steve always prescribed to a “the righteous are bold” sort of mentality even if it wasn’t feasible 100% of the time. The sneaking around made Steve tense, and he had a hard time not jumping at every little thing. It was so much easier when they could fly in on a quinjet and take out some bad guys, but he wasn’t going to complain aloud since he insisted on coming.

Movement from the man next to him at the bar caught Steve’s attention; the man was reaching out to take a drink. On the back of his hands, he had star tattoos kind of like a compass rose, and the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber filled the air, the buzzing of electrical whips sending chills down his spine. He dodged one attack, then another, and then three more before he was sent flying. He slammed into an overturned car then collapsed onto the racetrack. His heart pounded as he watched the man in a chest harness and the remains of an orange jumpsuit come at him in the car mirror. The whips snapped against the pavement with every step forward. He waited for just the right moment to leap over the broken car; it exploded when the whips made contact with the leaking gasoline. But that didn’t stop the man from coming at him with such glee, and, oh god, the man was using an arc reactor.

Someone touched his shoulder, and Steve launched into a right hook. He’d go down fighting.

His vision cleared, and he realized it was Natasha. She was fine, of course; there was no way she’d be hit by a blind punch. She pulled him over to a private part of the bar.

Right away, Steve apologized, “You were right. These memories are making me a liability.” He clutched at his chest, trying to remain calm.

Natasha leaned forward and put her hand on Steve’s shoulder. She spoke quietly, the humor coming through softly, “It’s nice to hear I’m right, but I let you come because I thought you could handle it, not because you are good at deflecting. You only got away with that because I like you.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” A dull ache resettled itself in Steve’s chest, what he said to her was crossing a line and he knew it the second after he said it. She revealed a weakness to him and he used it to needlessly question her capability.

She waved off his apology, “What set you off? As far as I know Stark has never been to Russia.”

“A man next to me in the bar had some tattoos on his hands like the ones someone attacking Tony had.” Steve’s voice wobbled a bit as he spoke. He leaned into Natasha a little.

Thankfully, Natasha didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she asked, “Did he have electric whips?”

“You mean the one in the memory? Yeah, he did.”

“The tattoos the man here had, were they little x’s on his knuckles?” She made circles on his back with her hand.

“No, they were like a sixteen point star. Black and white.”

“Interesting.” She stood up. “Let’s go find that man.”

Natasha’s lead turned out to be a bust--he had died not too long ago--but as it turned out certain members of organized crime in Russia were friendly with some of the Red Room administrators. Once they found their connection, it was just a matter of working through people until they found someone who could answer their questions.

They had to be careful with their work. They didn’t want to cause an international incident. Thankfully, most of the people they encountered weren’t the type to go to the authorities. It only took a few days to find someone who knew Pchelintsov’s latest forwarding address.

Apparently, he was hiding out in Chile, having built a villa in a remote location and isolated himself within it. He probably still possessed enough connections to the outside world to know if someone was looking for him, so they had to hurry there before word could get to him. The need for a commercial flight back to the States slowed them considerably.

During the ride back over, Steve traced the wings on his helmet with his finger and reflected on what he had seen of Tony’s memories. Many of Tony’s memories were as terrifying and violent as anything Steve had faced during the war or with SHIELD. Three times now, he’d been sent spiraling into panic over them.

The worst part was that Tony nearly always faced these things alone. Steve almost always had a bunch of people supporting him: growing up he had Bucky and his neighbors; during the war he had Howard, Peggy, and the Howling Commandos; and now he had the Avengers, Sam, and Sharon. Maybe he hadn’t always felt a connection with them, but he could count on them in a fight. He hadn’t fully appreciated some of those relationships until he realized Tony was as isolated as Steve had been when he first woke up. He wondered if Tony still felt that way, if he felt welcome on the team. Steve tried to remember.

In both his memories and Tony’s, Tony had been a bit separate from the group. He spent the same amount of time with the team as just about everyone else, but didn’t really share anything personal with anyone besides Bruce. Steve had thought their relationship had improved since the team got back together, but that was only skin deep. Underneath there wasn’t any trust, and it wasn’t just on Tony’s end. Steve needed to do better.

They only had time for a quick stop back in New York, as soon as they arrived they grabbed supplies and hopped into the quinjet with Sam and Clint.  As the best ones on the team for stealth besides Natasha, their participation in Pchelintsov’s capture could prove valuable. Natasha thought Pchelintsov was more likely to run than put up a fight, but it never hurt to have more back up. All told, their time at the tower was so short, Steve didn’t even see Tony, who was holed up in his lab.

On the way to Chile, Steve dozed a bit, he was just alert enough to be aware of his surroundings while still getting some rest. He didn’t feel much like sleeping, but he’d learned to get a bit of rest here and there when he could. Everyone in the war did.

Sam and Clint were chatting within earshot of Steve, the both of them having already gotten plenty of rest.

“Do you ever get tired of being called bird brain?” Clint asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“No one calls me that.”

“What? I get called that all the time! It’s what people like us get called.”

Sam snorted. “People like us?”

“You know, comrades in feathers.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sam scoffed. “Just because we both have bird related codenames does not make us pals.”

“Come on and show some solidarity here. We’re both the normal guys on the team.”

“Dude, I’m not even part of the Avengers, and, besides, there are plenty of other people on the team without powers.”

“Rhodes isn’t on the team,” Clint said. “He’s working for the military.”

“What about Stark and Natasha?”

“I’ve known Nat longer than anyone else; trust me she isn’t anyone’s definition of normal. And Stark? He’s on a whole different level of reality, I have no idea what’s up with him, but it ain’t normal.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Pchelintsov’s house rested on a mountain overlooking a valley, an area isolated enough that they had to parachute in, as any other approach would be quickly noted.

Mist rolled over the craggy bluffs, devoid of human presence. The four of them fanned out to secure the perimeter of the single-floor house, built in a luxurious, if slightly rustic, style. Clint and Sam remained outside to stand watch for anyone coming toward or leaving the house. The two of them founds spots to perch on the roof while Steve and Natasha began their search the interior.

They crept through the house, but with the exception of the floorboards creaking underfoot, not a sound was to be heard. In the dim light, everything appeared grey, sucking the life out of what was once a comfortable residence. They passed fish tanks and bookcases in their search, but room after room was empty. They came to the last room in the house, the blood splattered walls and overturned furniture painted a grim picture . Sprawled by a broken window was the body of an AIM agent.

“There’s been an attack. He’s gone,” Steve hissed. He tried to reign in the frustration bubbling up inside him. They had been so close to working out a way to fix everything, but someone else had got there first. All of this effort for nothing. He could only hope one of the other leads panned out.

Natasha held up a hand to stop him from leaving. “I don’t think so.”

“You got something?” He held his breath, waiting for her response.

“This scene is too unnatural. I think he’s hiding.” She examined a section of wall. “Start looking for hidden doors.”

Steve immediately leapt into a search for walls and floors that didn’t match up, were composed of different materials from their surroundings, showed unusual signs of wear, or had a draft coming through. He searched every place he could think of, but in the end it was Natasha who found it. There was a switch under a jar of olives in the pantry that opened a door in the back.

The passageway was tight; Steve followed Natasha in sideways to fit through. Several times she stopped him and pointed out a trap. Steve started to feel like he was in that movie with the awful Nazis that everyone else loved so much. It was hard to enjoy something that was such a gross parody of the world he knew. At least there probably weren’t any Nazis here, just dust and hopefully one Russian scientist.

Finally, they reached the end of the passageway to find no golden idols in sight, just a door. Natasha made short work of the lock. It swung open to reveal a dusty lab with a dusty old man sitting at a worktable.

“The work upstairs was sloppy,” Natasha informed him. “Overdramatic.”

“Forgive me, I was short on time,” said Pchelintsov. “I did not expect you to get this far.”

“How far did you expect us to get?” Steve asked.

“To Rappaccini. I planted the clue to ensure it,” Pchelintsov rasped.

Natasha asked, “Clue?”

“I sent flowers; the card was a gentle hint to lead you to her doorstep. It was a small revenge, but I cannot forgive the theft of my work. I had other, less subtle methods in place should that have failed. I’m an old man now. I don’t relish bloodshed.”  The blood splatters upstairs told a different story, but Steve wasn’t going to argue.

“You didn’t think she would lead us back to you?”

“She would not have if she had half the talent she claims.”

“That fool, she stole my research, but didn’t understand the least thing.” The old man shook his head in disgust. “She thought a formula could be stolen from memories. Ha!”

Shocked, Steve asked, “It can’t?”

“Just because you steal a memory, it doesn’t mean you steal the understanding of it too. At best you get surface thoughts, and only the strong ones at that. The understanding comes from years of learning and the genius of the original mind. She could never make it work.”

“Then it isn’t as simple as remembering creating it?”

“Memories are not so simple, especially natural ones. Unlike the stories I fabricated for the Red Room, natural memories are tangled with emotions and impulses. They are never so clear either, they easily change based on perceptions,” Pchelintsov explained.

Steve had heard enough, he wanted to get to the point. “Can you fix the machine you created?”

Pchelintsov nodded and said, “I will go with you, help you set it to rights.”

“You’re willing to come with us?”

“Maybe I have allies who remember my good work, but I have more enemies who remember the secrets I know. They will have found out you have made contact with me. I build this machine, you protect me, and you don’t ask for further information.”

“Just a moment,” Steve said.

He turned to Natasha and pitched his voice low so Pchelintsov wouldn’t make out what he was saying, asking, “Should we really offer asylum to this guy?”  He had his reservations about helping a man like that anyway, but what really held him back was Natasha’s connection to it.

“I say we go for it. The benefits are clear.”

“Are you sure? After what he did to you?”

Natasha looked him in the eye and said, “This is more important. What happened is in the past. Others have done a lot worse.”

Something about her demeanor told Steve that if he knew what was good for him he wouldn’t turn down Pchelintsov’s offer. He wasn’t particularly good at doing things for his own good, but in this case he conceded to her practicality.

Steve turned back to Pchelintsov and told him, “You have a deal.”

Outside, Sam and Clint congratulated them on a mission accomplished. Steve was just relieved Pchelintsov didn’t put up a fight. He was ready for this whole episode to be over and done with.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things worked out.

A message came through from headquarters as they transported Pchelintsov in the quinjet, still an hour out from New York. Hill’s voice was difficult to make out through the background noise of alarms, gunshots, breaking glass, and occasionally the Hulk’s roar. It took a few tries to get the message, but they didn’t have to understand it perfectly. The situation was clear: there was an attack on the tower.


	6. Chapter 6

It really was stupid how often Tony got kidnapped. The other Avengers would get captured occasionally, but it was different from the persistence villains exhibited in kidnapping Tony. Whatever the reason, Tony would cite four or five main ones whenever the topic of him being targeted outside of battle like no other Avenger came up. Only a portion of these attempts succeeded, but the sheer number of them made Tony’s ‘Frequently Kidnapped’ card fill up. Most of the time Tony broke himself out, but, regardless, every time the Avengers would still launch rescue missions.

So, when the transmission about the attack on the tower came in, it filled Steve with a sick dread. A lot of things could happen in that situation, but Tony worried him the most. He could be taken or killed so easily; it had happened less than a month ago. They flew at top speed back to the tower, hoping that it wouldn’t be too late. A second transmission came in before they even got to the tower.

Hill’s voice came through clear this time as she said, “They captured Iron Man! They are in a small aircraft heading northwest, I’m sending the projected flight path to you now. Can you intercept them?”

“Receiving data, Estimated time until interception--twenty minutes. We’ve got this, Hill,” Natasha reported back, working with Clint to make the necessary adjustments to their course to head off Tony’s captors.

From the Quinjet, they watched the security footage of the attack provided by Hill, a hastily strung together series of clips that functioned to get the point across. Though they couldn’t afford to waste time, they had to know what they were dealing with.

Views from multiple cameras showed that this was a coordinated attack by heavily-armed operatives. They stormed in, setting off several explosions in the process, and drew Thor, the Hulk, and War Machine away, while a second team disguised as a rescue team swooped in and took Tony. He didn’t go without a fight; he must have noticed something strange about them, because right away he tried to call the armor to him. They didn’t give him a chance to get it on, tackling him and preventing the armor from reaching him. Tony was dragged away struggling in a mass of bodies.

Throughout the video, Steve clutched at the aching pain in his chest. If only he had been there, he could have stopped it, but instead he insisted on going with Natasha on a mission she could have handled alone. He should have been there for Tony.

“I’ve got eyes on the enemy aircraft,” Clint announced somewhere over Michigan.

It was too late for regret, what he had to do now was clear. The Avengers needed him to hold himself together. These people weren’t going to just roll over and give Tony back.

“Pull in close and open the hatch.” He turned to Sam. “Let’s go.”

Leaping from planes was old hat for Steve, but there was always the thrill that came with the wind whipping past his face and the earth speeding toward him. He didn’t hesitate once the hatch was open; he immediately dived after the lone plane transporting Tony. He wasn’t wearing a parachute, but that was okay because Sam was there and he was better than any parachute.

The two of them glided in, Steve letting go of Sam to stick a landing on the wing. Sam dropped down on the other side. The quinjet pulled away from the plane, avoiding their fire. Steve made his way over to the door on the side of the plane. It took every ounce of strength to cling on while he busted open the door with his shield. The plane tilted, causing him to lose his balance and nearly sending him plummeting below.

Just barely hanging on, he managed to get his fingers in the crack between the door and the rest of the plane that he had widened with his shield. The plane leveled out, and Steve was sent slamming into the side of the plane, desperately willing his hands not to let go. It was pure strength of will that got him into a position where he could force the door open.

The force of pressurized air rushing out of the cabin nearly blew him back.. He could see the men inside, no longer wearing their faux-rescue uniforms, now armed to the teeth, and Tony tied up near the front of the cabin. For just a second, before everything went to hell, his panic-filled eyes met Steve’s. Steve wasn’t sure if it was that or the blast to chest that knocked the air out of him, but in any he Steve found himself flung backward and out of breath.

The surface of the plane flew by with Steve scrabbling uselessly at its surface. His lungs expanded, fighting the thin air every step of the way, all Steve could manage was Sam’s name before his breath was ripped away from him again. Thankfully, that was all the signal Sam needed. He dove off the plane and reached out for Steve, who was trying to correct his tumbling freefall.

With a jolt, Steve’s plummet came to a sudden stop when their hands made contact, Sam’s strong grip wrapping around his wrists. Heart pounding, he watched the jet get away. Their quinjet had taken damage and was probably just staying in the air.

“I slipped a tracking device onto the hull,” Sam said, “,and it’ll tell us exactly where they’re taking Stark.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

They stopped in Seattle to regroup and meet the rest of the Avengers. There was a branch of Stark Industries there that had improved quinjets in storage as well as trusted people to take Pchelintsov back to New York to begin work on the memory relay device. Bruce talked with the man before he was herded onto another plane.

“Good job bringing Pchelintsov in. I think we can finally make some headway now,” Bruce said, running his fingers through his hair. “I wish I could go back with him to get started, but I think Tony needs me with you guys more.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded. “You’re right. Repairing the machine won’t mean much if we don’t have the person we’re repairing it for.”

“Tony always seems to come out of these situations fine, or at least not much worse for wear, but I worry that at some point we’ll be too late and he won’t be able to protect himself. Too many people hold grudges against him,” Bruce said softly, not quite looking Steve in the eye.

“AIM probably doesn’t know yet that Tony doesn’t have the memories they are after anymore. We’ve kept that information to ourselves and Tony knows better than to tell them. He’s safe as long as they need him.” Neither of them said that he would only be safe from being killed; there was a whole host of other things that could happen to him.

Bruce left to load his supplies onto the quinjet. Everyone else, the Avengers plus Sam and Rhodey, also made preparations to go north, where the signal was located. When everyone was on board, it became clear that there was sense of discouragement in the ranks, and Steve needed to fix that.

“Avengers,” Steve called. “Assemble!”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Steve as soon as the words were out of his mouth. They gathered around him, just out from underneath the shadow of the quinjet.

“AIM hit us hard, right in our heart. They took one of our own and we won’t let them get away with it.” Steve made eye contact with each of his team members; it was his promise to them.

“Tony’s tough, but he needs us. Together we can save him, we’ve done it before.” Straightening his back a little, Steve continued, “You are my pride. If we work as a team, nothing is impossible. I have absolute faith that we can face any challenge together. I’m counting on you, Tony is counting on you.”

✧･ﾟ:*✧

The Avengers could see that, this time, AIM was prepared for them. The base was well camouflaged, hidden in a forest that rested in the shadow of a mountain, and possessed defenses: turrets, walls, and tanks. Seven jets swooped over the quinjet, spitting bullets like dragons raining down fire. They looked to be some sort of new design.

Even as the bullets hit the quinjet and he gave orders, Steve could see another time, another memory. He could taste the dust and scotch in his mouth, hear the screams and explosions, see the light passing through the holes in the side of the vehicle. He was mostly used to it by now, and he knew what was happening, but it was so visceral that he almost lost himself in it.

No. That wasn’t him, that wasn’t now. He wasn’t going to let himself get drawn further in. Right now, he had his own battle to fight and he knew just how. He shouted directions, explaining his plan. Rhodey dropped out of the open hatch to find the rocky outcropping Steve had directed him to. Clint maneuvered the quinjet and lead the enemy until they were all lined up behind them.

“Rhodes, take them down now!” Steve roared, and, one after another, Rhodey punched holes in the enemy jet’s wings with his specialized missiles and all seven of them dropped from the sky. It probably wouldn’t work a second time; there were a limited number of those missiles and if any new pilots showed up, they’d know the trick.

“Sam, Rhodes, I want you on the turrets. Thor, Hulk take care of the tanks. Natasha, you’re with me, we’ll sweep the base for Tony. Clint, cover me.”

Steve dropped down as the quinjet was landing in a small clearing a mile from the base’s fortifications. He ran for the entrance of the base, leaping over the wire fence that ran through the trees. What he wouldn’t give for his motorcycle right then. The Hulk surged past him, smashing through all obstacles. Sam swooped down to drop Natasha closer to the action, and Rhodey did the same for Clint.

“JARVIS, does AIM have any reinforcements coming in?”

[None that I can detect. It appears they are on their own. However, our reinforcements should reach the base within the hour.]

“Thanks, JARVIS. Keep me updated on that.”

As Steve drew closer, there were more tanks and people in his way, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He could accomplish anything when he had his team at his back. Tanks were being smashed left and right, arrows sprouted up in the enemies around him, and Natasha was his shadow with a deadly bite.

“These tanks fry mighty well.”

The air tingled with static, a sure sign that Thor was calling down lightning, though the resultant thunder could hardly be heard over the cacophony of weapons and destruction. Overhead, Sam and Rhodey kept the turrets occupied while trying to find a weak point. Rhodey did what he could to protect Sam from being hit since he was the more vulnerable of the two.

Rhodey came in on the comm: “These turrets look pretty well defended, so it might take us a while to find a crack.”

“Do what you have to. Our backup can’t come in until those are down.”

Steve didn’t stop moving; he pushed forward with unheard of ferocity. He tossed his shield, and it hit three enemies before he caught it again. Leaping down from the top of a tank, he broke the hinges on the door to the base.

Inside the door, a cluster of AIM agents were waiting for them. Steve and Natasha efficiently cut through their ranks and went their separate ways. They could search more efficiently if they didn’t stick together, and they were both tough enough to go it alone.

Racing through the base on his search for Tony, Steve worked to push his panic down. When Steve found Bucky on that table in Azzano, when he found Tony after AIM took him last time; it turned his stomach to see someone precious to him suffering in enemy hands like that. He never wanted to experience that again, but he would never let that fear stop him, not on any day.

Of course then, there were days where he faced creatures that looked like a cross between giant rats and spiders and felt that maybe he deserved a break from fighting evil. He had just turned the corner when he saw them scuttling over the floor, wall, and ceiling. They were the size of dogs. By no means were these creatures a seamless mix of their constituent parts. They had patchy fur covering their faces and thoraxes in a mix of colors as skin turned into exoskeleton. Half their legs were thin and insect-like, but the other half ended in hairless paws. The creatures looked like they were in pain, yet they still came at him with sharp teeth and rage in their many eyes. As he batted them away, Steve could see a scientist down the hallway with a remote in his hand, likely controlling them with the collars welded onto their necks.

“Clint, I think I found those spiderats you told me about.”

“Aww man. Those were awful, so many legs. Watch for their bite,” Clint said, with clear pauses between arrows.

“At least they aren’t spider-wolves.” The properly coordinated attacks wolves could pull off would be so much harder to deal with.

“Why did you even think of that? That’s like a whole new dimension of suck.”

“You guys deal with some crazy ass shit,” Sam added. “I’ll take these damn turrets over something with too many legs any day.”

With successive crunches and squeals, Steve cut his way through the swarm, painting his shield with their purple blood. A couple dropped from above and latched onto his back and arms. They drooled all over him as they tried to bite through his armor. With their wheezing breaths in his ear, Steve threw them off and slammed them against the wall.

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Steve panted. “Better than people.”

The scientist realized much too late that the few creatures left would not be enough to defend him from Captain America’s ire. He tried to run, but Steve quickly bashed through the last of the spiderats and pounced on him.

Steve pressed the scientist up against the wall, where spiderat blood seeped into his lab coat. “Where is Iron Man?” he growled at his captured prey.

The scientist trembled and started crying. When he wasn’t forthcoming, Steve pressed a little harder and asked again. This time he whined, “He’s in the lab on basement floor seven.”

Steve crashed through the door that led to the stairwell. As he moved, he informed his team of the situation. He had gone several flights before he was caged by AIM agents coming in from both above and below him. He covered his back with his shield as he leapt at the agents below. He slammed the first one into the wall then pushed him into the others.

After plowing through the men to the floor he wanted, Steve carefully stepped out with his shield up. He turned down a few corridors before reaching the lab where even more agents awaited. Some of them had what looked like experimental guns, one which shot lightning and another which disintegrated things, not unlike some of Hydra’s weapons during the war. Steve didn’t wait to see what the others did; he threw his shield to take them out first.

He could see Tony struggling in the background, clad only in his underwear and covered in wires, two scientists struggled to hold him down on an exam table. Rushed by the swarm of agents, Steve lost sight of Tony. He scooped up his shield and took them down one by one. When he had a chance, he looked back where he last saw Tony only to find him gone.

Steve’s eyes were darting about the room search for some trace of Tony, when a shot clipped his lower right leg. It didn’t do any damage, but it was more than enough of a wakeup call. Swallowing down his worry, Steve returned his attention to the last few agents. A shot of lightning flew past Steve and struck the agent to the left of him. Then another was hit; somehow in that mess Tony had gotten free and started taking agents down with one of their guns. Tony aimed with surprising competency despite his injured right arm.

It was shocking how easily the two of them fell in sync with one another. They fought together with the sort of precision that normally required years of practice, yet came naturally to them. That effortlessness had also been there the first time they faced enemies together. It was more than guessing the other’s moves and having their back, it was instinctively moving to the same rhythm, as if in a dance. It wasn’t long before the last agent in the room fell to the ground.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

✧･ﾟ:*✧

 

Tony cocked a smile and rasped, “Miss me?”

Bruises in the shape of fingers circled his neck, blood trailed from his nose, and his arm hung oddly again. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind he worried about the repeated trauma to the healing bone, but more than that Steve was relieved to see Tony breathing. He could have lost him.

Trembling a little, Steve swept Tony into a hug. “Always.”

His heart caught on the feeling of Tony’s body, small, warm, and safe in his arms. He kind of wanted to tell Tony how small he seemed just to hear what kind of indignant response he’d get. Tony looked dazed and confused when Steve pushed him away instead, both of them realizing that the hug lasted longer than something that was just friendly.

Steve didn’t know what to make of the expression on Tony’s face. His eyes were so wide, and his mouth didn’t seem to know what to do it, shifting from a frown, to a smile, to a gasp and back again. Something had changed, it had been this whole time, and it probably wasn’t done changing either, but Steve could sense that this moment was a turning point.

Distant explosions echoed through the base. Tony left Steve to grab some clothes. Reminded of their situation, Steve checked in with his teammates.

“Rhodes, Natasha, I’ve found Tony. We’re headed to the roof. Meet us there. ETA is 8 minutes.”

Three voices replied, “Roger that.”

Another blast sounded from above as they raced through corridors and up stairways, Steve shielding Tony from AIM attacks. The henchmen shied away from the ferocity Steve used to protect him. He ran rampant, seemingly everywhere at once as he pounced on enemy after enemy. The sound of his shield ricocheting off walls and bodies rang through the halls. It seemed like no time at all before they burst through the door at the top of the stairs.

Wind whipped around him and explosions light up the sky as he called, “Rhodes, we’re on the roof.”

“Sorry, Cap, I’m a little busy. I’ll be over as soon as I take care of these creeps.” Rhodey was still dodging fire from the turrets, about half of them were broken open, but they were giving Rhodey more trouble than Steve expected.

There was a bang as the door opened again and AIM lackeys came flooding out of the door behind Steve and Tony. They were armed with stun batons, but thankfully no long-range weapons. From among them, Monica Rappaccini stepped out. Her face twisted into a sneer as she leveled a gun at Steve, but she focused on Tony as she spoke.

“You aren’t getting away from me!” she screamed across the rooftop. “Extremis is the key to uniting AIM! And you are going to hand it to me!”

“And what do you plan to do with it?” Tony shouted.

A whistling sound, followed by a crash, and then finally a boom echoed as Rhodey and Sam destroyed another turret. Rappaccini’s hair streamed out behind her in the smoke-laden wind, the light from the fire warping her features further as she declared, “With an army of extremis enhanced soldiers, and me as Scientist Supreme, AIM will revolutionize the world!”

“Somehow, I don’t think we’ll like her idea of a revolution.” Tony muttered, clutching Steve’s arm.

At Rappaccini’s signal, her henchmen came rushing forward at Steve as he covered Tony. One of the men got past Steve’s shield, hitting his side with a baton and sending electricity coursed through Steve. At the edge of his vision, Steve saw Natasha slip from the shadows. Steve gritted his teeth and batted away his attackers with a roar, driving them away from Tony with a ferocity he didn’t know he was capable of. It didn’t last long in the face of their numbers; they rallied and it took all of Steve’s effort to protect Tony. Everyone concentrated on Steve, so it was simple for Natasha to creep up behind Rappaccini and disarm her. Meanwhile, Steve and Tony were pushed further back to the edge of the roof.

Rappaccini staggered back from Natasha and, before the distance between them could close again, Rappaccini activated her belt. Steve slipped and received a glancing blow to his solar plexus for his loss of concentration. She teleported next to Tony, and a brief struggle ensued as she tried to grab hold of him while he put all his effort in pushing her away. Unexpectedly, he got one good shove in and she went staggering off the edge.

Tony grabbed her belt as she started tumbling from the roof, but she couldn’t be pulled back as easily as he expected and he plummeted alongside her. Steve shouted and ran to catch him. Time dilated; he could clearly see the fear in Tony’s eyes as he teetered over the edge, every breath taking Steve twice as long as he reached out and tried to grab hold of Tony’s flapping arm.

The memories doubled up as the wind whipped in his face. Twice over his outstretched hand failed to catch the person most important to him. Tony was there, plunging simultaneously into an icy ravine and a fiery pit. The roar of the train in Steve’s ears overwhelmed him, it was only the feeling of a warm hand in his that caused reality to finally slide back into place. Tony dangled from his hand, his stolen and too-large shoe dropping to the ground. Rappaccini’s broken body laid below. Steve lifted him back onto the rooftop where they laid down, breathing heavily.

Steve opened his eyes. The adrenaline bled out of his system and weightlessness overtook him. A strong gust of wind blew the smoke away to clear the sky. The stars above them were so bright, like he could reach out and touch them.  His breath caught in his throat, the sky sucked him in, and all sound cut out. He was going to die. Stars glittered around him as he dropped through space in stark silence. Overhead the Chitauri mothership loomed large, its threat to his vulnerable blue world not at all diminished even as it was ripped apart in the explosion. There was nothing left for him to do, nothing he could do, he was dying; he was dead.

Again a warm hand, pressed against his chest, brought him back from the brink. Tony looked down on him, still panting, with dirt smudged on his face, but he had a smile for him. They won. Steve relaxed slightly, then remembered his job wasn’t done. He unsteadily pulled himself off the ground.

Two flashbacks in quick succession took a lot out of him. He was worried about how close they were, the increase in frequency couldn’t mean anything good, not when he could barely hold on to the present.

[Captain, Agent Hill has arrived with reinforcements. They are waiting for your permission to move in.]

He needed to stay focused. Into the commline, Steve croaked, “Avengers, what’s your status?”

“Clear,” Sam called.

Rhodey said, “All clear, and I’m coming to you now”

“Clear,” Clint’s voice came in. “I’ve got eyes on Hulk. He’s done smashing and has started playing with what’s left of a tank.”

“The enemy offers naught but a mere token of resistance,” Thor reported.

“Roger that everyone. We’ll meet you by the quinjet in five. JARVIS, send them in. Rhodes? Can we get that ride?”

Rhodey touched down on the roof and proudly responded, “It’d be my pleasure, Cap.” He looked over to Natasha and asked, “You coming too?”

She declined with smirk. “I think I’ll find my own way down.”

Rhodey took Steve and Tony down to where the rest of the Avengers waited. Their operatives had already started sweeping in, mopping up the remnants of AIM. Natasha mysteriously appeared a couple of minutes later.

Immediately, the Hulk abandoned his pieces of scrap in favor of coming over and scooping Tony into a hug. It was kind of cute. Tony seemed a bit disgruntled at first--this was probably the first time that he could remember being that close to the Hulk--but he took being lifted off his feet by a green giant in stride.

The Hulk rumbled, “Hulk happy Tin Man safe.”

“Uh, thanks Green Bean,” he said, patting the Hulk’s shoulder. “You think you could let me down?”

The Hulk cuddled him a few more times before gently placing him on the ground. He seemed a bit dazed, so Steve stepped in to steady him. Tony was oddly silent as the base was cleared out under the Avengers direction.

Once orders were given, Steve watched the flickering flames of a nearby burning tank. The Avengers had to stay on standby in case something went wrong with clean up, but, without an immediate task to keep them going, they fell into a lull.

Suddenly Clint, while glancing between him and a fiery tank, said, “Dude, we should make s’mores.”

“Yes. Let us feast upon them!” Thor declared. God knew how he was familiar with s’mores. It was probably Clint, though Dr. Foster’s group could just as easily be responsible.

Hulk boomed, “Hulk love s’mores!”

“Are they always like this?” Tony whispered to Steve, who’s only response was to bury his face in his hands.

 “Do we even have the ingredients?” Natasha asked.

Clint shrugged. “I was hoping to go camping at some point, so they’re in the quinjet.”

Steve put his foot down. “No. We are not making s’mores at an enemy base.”

Hulk and Thor made the most disappointed-sounding ruckus Steve had ever heard at that, and Steve had been part of the Howling Commandos so that said something. Steve wondered why his team turned into a bunch of kids once the mission is over. Sometimes he felt like a parent of six.

After their whining died down, Sam, the traitor, pointed out, “You didn’t say we couldn’t make them.”

“We’ve got a fireplace back at the tower,” Tony added, slumped against Steve. Steve abruptly became aware of how much of Tony was pressed up against him.

This got Thor and Hulk excited again, but Clint complained, “It isn’t the same as making them outdoors. There is just something about the fresh air, the woods, and a campfire that make everything taste better.”

“That isn’t exactly a campfire,” said Natasha in that calm way that told you she was laughing at you.

“Roasting marshmallows on that would probably give us cancer,” Rhodey said.

“You’re worried about cancer?” asked Natasha. Her tone left no doubt as to how stupid she thought that was.

Rubbing his temples, Steve headed off a potential conflict by pleading, “Can we please stay on task?”

“Fine. We can have them when we get back,” Clint said.


	7. Chapter 7

No one made s’mores, but it was a near thing. The only thing that stopped everyone from roasting marshmallows was the fact they were gone. It wasn’t until they tore the quinjet apart looking for them that Clint remembered that it was the quinjet they had left in Seattle that he stored the supplies in. The ride back home was rather sullen with a fair amount of grumbling.

Everyone was a bit grumpy even after they arrived at the tower, and, rather than go their separate ways nearly everyone, gravitated toward the TV room where they could get on each other’s nerves. It probably had to do with the fact it was one of the few residential sections of the tower that wasn’t wrecked. Luckily, the owners of the rooms that got hit didn’t care much. Thor, Clint, and Natasha didn’t even really live in their rooms as they had other places they liked to stay, Sam had a guest room on Steve’s floor, and Rhodey stayed with Tony during the short periods he was able to drop by. It was actually a little surprising seeing almost everyone in one place still moaning about s’mores. Maybe, after the day they had, the team needed some time to just relax together. Steve began to suggest going out to buy the ingredients, but Bruce returned and distracted them with a meeting to report some good news.

“We’ve got the machine pretty much rebuilt,” Bruce said, “a few tests and calibrations and we should be set to fix this mess.”

“That is most joyous news!” Thor exclaimed.

Clint groaned, “Finally.”

Natasha looked at where Steve and Tony sat on the couch together, even as she asked Bruce, “How much longer until we can use it?”

“Sometime tomorrow.” Bruce adjusted his glasses, looking more relaxed than he had since AIM kidnapped Tony the first time. “It looks like all the work I did with the scientists we recruited to put the machine back together helped. Dr. Pchelintsov only had to help with a few missing pieces.”

Sam folded his arms and leaned back against the armrest next to Steve. “We went all the way to Chile to get this guy and that’s all he does?”

“They were important pieces. It wouldn’t have been possible without him.”

From the moment the good news was announced, warmth filled Steve. He wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder and said, “It’ll be great to have you back on the team, Iron Man.”

“Well, this has been every exciting, but I have plans for the rest of the night. Adios,” Tony babbled, springing up from the couch.

Most of the team shrugged off Tony’s odd behavior and shuffled off to whatever corners they could find, no doubt more than ready to hit the hay. Steve, on the other hand, stared after Tony, wondering what the problem was. He wasn’t the only one to remain behind. Rhodey stepped into Steve’s line of sight, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey, Cap.” Rhodey had the air of nonchalance of someone who felt a bit nervous, but was decent at hiding it. “I’ve been showing Tony some of the best movies of the past 8 or so years, and we were about to watch one I think you might like. It’s called _The Artist_.”

That wasn’t one of the movies Steve had hit yet on his quest to catch up on pop culture and Rhodey probably wouldn’t invite him to watch something he’d hate like Clint or Tony would, so he agreed. More than that, he wanted to see how Tony was doing. Ten minutes later they were spread out on the big couch together in the TV room with a bowl of popcorn. Steve also brought a pack of peanuts and a box of Raisinets; it just didn’t feel right watch a movie on a big screen without them. Tony fidgeted more than usual, but calmed down a little after Steve shared his candy. He supposed sacrificing his Raisinets was worth knowing that whatever reason Tony had for running off earlier, he wasn’t mad at Steve. Over the course of the movie Tony migrated closer to Steve on the couch, ostensibly to ask if there were historical inaccuracies.

By the time the film was over, Steve decided not to be too insulted Rhodey asked him to watch a silent film with them. He suspected it was because this was similar to the kind of movie Steve grew up with, but he did really enjoy it even if it hurt a bit to be reminded so keenly of the childhood he had long left behind. He remembered going to the nickelodeons with his ma or Bucky a few times before things got bad. Besides, he was glad to spend leisure time with them.

Rhodey headed off to bed, but both Steve and Tony lingered amongst the peanut shells and popcorn for a bit longer. They chatted about the movie until Tony abruptly switched topics.

“What kind of man did I become?” he asked.

Not expecting a question like that, it took Steve a minute to come up with an answer. “Before all this, I’d have said you were someone who does whatever he wants because he has a lot of money to throw around. Sometimes it would be for good, sometimes it would be for your ego. That’s what I would have said. I see now that isn’t really you. You’re nothing so shallow as that. You’re Iron Man, but you are also human. I get the sense you were weighed down by a lot of what happened to you. You’ve had it hard, but I’ve never known you to back down or give up…”

“I don’t think I want my memories back.” The floor crumbled under Steve’s feet, leaving him without a place to stand.

For a while now, there had been a quote that Steve had read after waking up that really stuck with him. It was from one of the books Sam pressed upon him along with some Stevie Wonder albums and, ever since this whole ordeal started, it resonated with him even more: “The past beats inside me like a second heart.”

Never had his past been so relevant to him as when he found himself in the future. It dogged his every step; he could feel the weight of it in his chest, and, right now, he had Tony’s past beating right alongside his own. Ghosts of Tony’s memories have been haunting him, coloring his experiences almost as much as his own. It was like Tony’s own heart had made itself a home in Steve’s chest. Steve knew there would always be a place for Tony there, but he needed to give him back his memories, his past. Steve couldn’t hold on to these essential bits of who Tony was, even if Tony didn’t want them.

“There are things you need to remember. You may be unsure of who you will become, but I’m not. The Tony I know is a great man. He is kind, generous, and brave. He is a hero.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What?”

“The way you guys talk about him--there is no way he could be me. I’m not like you. I’m not the hero type. I’m selfish, heartless, narcissistic, and impulsive. What could change me so much that anyone could think otherwise?”

Steve didn’t want to hear Tony talk about himself like that. It hurt to have someone who Steve cares about, who works so hard, who gives so much, put so little value in themselves. That wasn’t the Tony he’s seen.

“I don’t think you have.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you’ve actually changed that much. There are a few differences in the way you act, but you are still kind, generous, and brave. Every bit equal to the hero I am.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve tried living up to your expectations, but I was relieved you didn’t let me go with you to Vermont. I would have messed up anyway. I always do. Look what’s happened since! I let Rappaccini get away and got captured. Everyone knows what kind of person I am and it’s not some knight in shining armor. You are better off without me.”

“Not everyone knows you. I saw you with those kids that day we went flying. You treated them with genuine kindness. When we fought Rappaccini, you continued fighting even when you were in pain and had to be terrified by your first battle. If that isn’t bravery, then I don’t know what is. Even now, when you don’t know who we are, you still give us your time and home. That is generosity. It’s those qualities that make you a hero, not a string of successes. You’ve always had your best qualities; you just need to remember them.”

Tony still looked unconvinced. For the first time, Steve tried to dredge up one of Tony’s memories, something defining, that he could use to give him the boost he needs. He thought he had it and started to say, “Someone once told you to be worth it-”

Then he lost track of his words because his head was splitting open and his chest was being torn out, because he died in his arms, the doctor with the glasses, the one who saw the good in him when no one else did. He bled out while in his arms. He did so much for him, and he didn’t deserve this. He wasn’t going to let, the people--person?--responsible get away with it.

Except he thinks that was probably a long time ago, years, decades maybe. He doesn’t think he let them get away. No, they ate cyanide, and he blew them up. Did he really do that? He did. He wanted to wipe them off the map for what they did. Not just to the doctor, but for everything else, too. They were hurting people; he had to stop them. It was his fault. No, he had nothing to do with it, but he was still going to end it.

Someone sobbed a “Steve!” over his head.

A pressure pounded behind his eyes, and his head felt like it was about to explode. He couldn’t see or think straight, it was almost worse than palladium poisoning. He was vaguely aware of a damp spot forming on his shirt underneath the weight on his chest. It was blood spilling out from his heart—No, tears?

Time stuttered as he tried to concentrate on the approaching footsteps and the hands moving him. It was useless. He’d get lost, his mind wandering into the past with every familiar sensation. His parched mouth reminded him of the desert, a flash of a white coat of Dr. Erskine, and the cool cloth on his forehead of his mother nursing him when he was young. There was someone beside his bed and it took a few moments of dizziness to work out that it was Tony.

Then he lost track of things. He remembered being Tony. He remembered being Steve, too, but the Tony memories seemed so bright. He was a jigsaw puzzle with a handful of pieces from a similar yet different puzzle dropped in. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was which.

Voices talked over his head. Though he recognized the voices, he couldn’t understand them. He couldn’t find his voice, couldn’t let them know he was awake, no matter how he struggled. It was like waking up strapped to a chair with no way of knowing if he was going to make it out alive. No, it was like waking up and thinking he should be dead, wondering if he wasn’t already. There was a sense of unreality to it.

He focused a little harder on the voices. He needed to know what was going on.

“He appears to be having trouble sorting out your memories from his. It’s putting a strain on him. I think the foreign memories have made him more susceptible to involuntary recurrent memories. Natasha reported that he had flashbacks out in the field, but had thought he had it under control.”

“Is he going to be able to pull through?”

“I don’t know. Physically, this is probably something he can overcome, but, mentally…”

“We can’t be sure he’d still be able to hold on to his sense of identity.”

“Exactly.”

A third voice, much closer than the other two chimed in. “Let’s do the transfer. He can’t be hurt by my memories if he no longer has them, right?”

“We aren’t done testing it yet.”

“You’ve tested it enough. Who knows what kind of damage it could cause if this lasts much longer.”

He didn’t really understand the rest of the argument, but after a few seconds and an eternity, he was dimly aware of being wheeled down a hallway, the florescent lights shining down on him. He floated away. For a moment, he remembered the desert, lying in the sand with his blood seeping out. The sun had been so bright and hot.

When he came back, they were moving him, placing something on his head. He struggled a bit because there was no way he was letting them put that dusty sack back on his head, but he didn’t have enough iron left in him to truly fight back. It was like being a kid again where he could punch all he wanted, but the bullies didn’t care. They hated him because he was sick, because he was weak. They smelled blood in the water and went after every little thing he did.

Next thing he knew, there was a soft pressure on his lips and something scrapping pleasantly against his cheek. He didn’t have time to examine the sensation because fireworks went off in his brain as he was pulled out of himself one piece at a time. He was being ripped apart, yet was becoming more whole. Someone screamed, might have been him, but the more he listened to it, the more certain he was that it was someone else.

Then it was over. His head pounded for a few short seconds before clearing. Steve got up and removed the equipment from his head. His vision swam as he looked over to the other bed. He didn’t want to believe what he saw, but even after his eyes cleared, reality remained the same.

Tony lay there, broken and dead. His face was ashen and slack. It held none of the life of just moments before. Steve panicked for a moment, but gathered himself up to try and perform CPR. He faltered when he felt Tony’s ribs cracking under the compressions. He knew he couldn’t give up, though. He regained his footing and continued trying to restart Tony’s heart. He had lined up their mouths and started to push air into Tony’s lungs when Tony sparked. A mighty flame followed that tiny spark. Steve backed away and saw Tony glow golden as his clothes burned away. Steve was greeted by the sight of Tony’s chest expanding. It was literally breathtaking and unbelievable. The tension broke, and his relief must have loosened something inside him because he and Tony breathed out as one.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

A knock at the door roused Steve from his stupor. He had been mindlessly doodling and erasing things in his sketchbook in between record changes. His breath caught when he saw who was at his door.

After the accident, Bruce and a medical team rushed in to put out fires and do what they could for Tony. The second part turned out to be unnecessary as, rather miraculously, Tony was uninjured, though still unconscious. He was transferred to a bed in the med-bay until he woke up.

Bruce sat with Steve by Tony’s bedside, a twisted echo of the last time Tony was hospitalized. Steve stared at Tony’s hand, unsure if he should take it. Seeing Tony in bed like that was every bit as horrible as Steve had imagined. Without his life and verve, Tony seemed fragile, reminding Steve that he was just a man in a suit of armor.

Or that’s what he had thought. Bruce disabused him of that notion when he told Steve that extremis was active in Tony. It was something he should have been able to guess given the glowing and rapid healing, but his mind had been elsewhere.

“The device putting Tony’s memories back ran into some interference from the then dormant extremis. It fried all our systems, including our door locks, and Tony besides. Thankfully, it also kick-started extremis so it could heal him. Who knows how much damage the surge caused him,” Bruce informed him.

Steve remained silent, more from the inability to form words than lack of anything to say. While Steve had been happy to get an explanation, he didn’t much like what it meant: that Tony had been secretly experimenting on himself.

Bruce leveled him a look full of caution. “We can’t be sure the memory re-implantation worked until he wakes up.”

They fell into silence as they continued their wait. Even after Bruce left for his own bed, Steve remained behind, desperately seeking some sign of Tony waking. It came with a few twitches of his hands and soon enough Tony’s eyes fluttered open. His unsteady gaze searched the room until it landed on Steve. A few blinks more, and Tony really saw him.

“Shit.”

Praying that reaction meant what he thought it meant, Steve asked, “Are your memories back then?”

“You bet they are,” Tony replied while he pulled himself out of the bed. “I never want to do that again.”

Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders as Steve agreed, “Me neither.”

Before anything else could be discussed, Tony gathered himself up and fled. Steve’s first instinct had been to go after him, but he knew better than to corner Tony and add fuel to the fire.

Now, a day later, Tony was at his door in one of his business suits. Steve moved out of the way to let Tony through, but to Steve’s surprise, Tony stopped in the doorway, with his head cocked to one side to listen to Harry James and His Orchestra. After a moment he said, “Nice song. Feeling nostalgic for the classics of your time?”

If Steve so much as fidgeted, he’d end up brushing against Tony. He retreated back into his den to let Tony by before answering.

“Actually this came out after I went under,” he informed him. “The last time I heard it…I’m not sure it was such a good memory.”

_Never thought that you would be_

Tony came and started leaning against Steve’s couch. With his rosy lips curved into a smile, he said, “So, no nostalgia then?”

_Standing here so close to me_

“I wouldn’t say that…” The song made him feel a lot of things, and a touch of nostalgia was one of them. It’s why he was so careful about taking the record when he cleaned out his apartment in DC. He wanted to tell Tony about what the song meant to him, but the words got stuck in his throat.

_There is so much that I feel I should say_

The conversation petered out, and the two of them sat there glancing at each other. Steve could hardly look at Tony, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away either. He hadn’t felt like this since- he couldn’t remember when. No, he could remember exactly when, it was June, 1943.

_But words can wait until some other day_

Tony licked his lips and, feeling a bit panicked, Steve jumped up. “Uh, you know what? Why don’t I turn this off?”

_Kiss me once then kiss me twi-_

Blushing a little he turned to Tony and said, “We really need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“That’s why you’re here isn’t it?”

“Well go ahead and talk then.”

Steve took a deep breath, praying that he could get through this conversation without it turning sour. Beating around the bush would get him nowhere with Tony so he dove right in.

“You’ve been experimenting on yourself with extremis.” He couldn’t keep the judgement from his voice.

With clear restraint, Tony said, “I needed to. There was no way to deal with the damage the arc reactor caused without using extremis.”

He hadn’t heard about any damage. “I thought it was keeping you alive?”

“At a cost. I had a piece of machinery bolted into my chest. There were all sorts of problems, besides the time it outright nearly killed me with palladium poisoning,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “I had reduced lung capacity, displaced organs, and let’s not forget the fact my sternum was removed to fit it in there. I was in constant pain and, without extremis, I never would have been able to remove it.”

“So bad you risked using something that makes people explode?”

Tony’s banked anger flared up at that. “You don’t know what it’s like to live like that!”

“I do! For the first twenty-five years of my life, I was a mess. I had asthma and scoliosis; I was color blind, deaf in one ear, and magnet for every illness out there. I thought I was going to die so many times. So, I do know what’s like to have your body betray you.”

“That’s funny because I’m not seeing it now. It’s almost like you volunteered yourself for a procedure that would make all that go away.” Steve could sense the anger bubbling beneath Tony’s skin when he said, “You’re a hypocrite, Rogers.”

“It wasn’t about making the pain go away. It was about getting a chance to help people, and do my part.”

“For me too. The arc reactor was holding me back. I needed to move forward, to be a better me. It was my ultimate weak point.”

A yawning chasm opened between him and Tony, and it was undeniably Steve’s fault this time. Tony had actually come to Steve of his own free will to talk things out. That was such an important step forward for the both of them.

The problem was Steve couldn’t agree with extremis, and he couldn’t lie about it. But, maybe, he didn’t have to. He remembered what Peggy said about the dignity of choice. Maybe he could respect Tony’s choices even when he didn’t agree with them.

Before Tony could get away, Steve grabbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I guess even after all that happened I’m not much good at seeing things from your point of view.”

Tony gave Steve a long, measured look, like he was searching for something in his expression. Steve held his breath when Tony looked away, sure that Tony was going to leave anyway. Then a smile broke out across Tony’s face like sunshine. Relieved, Steve smiled back at him.

As if nothing happened, Tony started saying, “So, I’ve been thinking about what it was like to have Rhodey here with me when I didn’t really remember you guys. It was like college all over again, building rockets and staying up all night watching movies. Even after I started getting to know everyone, Rhodey was the guy I could count on. I really don’t tell him that enough, how much--”

Tony must have realized he was rambling because he froze then started again. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m willing to help you find your buddy. Before you deny anything, I know you’ve been sending Wilson out to search for him. You think you were being sneaky, but you’ve done a shit job covering it up. You also can’t lie worth a damn.” He took a deep breath. “But that is beside the point. What I’m saying is you should trust me on this.”

He stood, hands in his pockets, not meeting Steve’s eyes.

“I trust you Tony, but you have to trust me, too.”

Tony looked up, his brown eyes strangely earnest. “I do.”

Their goodnights said, Steve and Tony parted ways. Steve lowered himself into his plush bed and tried to get some sleep, thinking about how it wouldn’t be so bad to call this place home.

The next thing he knew he bounded through New York at top speed, the wind in his mane. The motorcycle beneath him was the one he used in the war. He went past the apartment where he grew up with his ma, Coney Island, Stark Tower, and Shawarma Palace. Kids played stickball in the street, as alien hovercraft zoomed overhead. Steve got off at a dance hall, but it was abandoned. Birds had nested in the rafters as evidenced by an empty nest with one golden feather.  Just as he was about to leave, the music starts up. He turned to his partner--

The alarm went off. The Avengers had a situation to deal with, and Steve pulled himself out of bed to go defend and protect.

✧･ﾟ:*✧

Steve was in an odd mood when he finished a phone call with Sharon a few days afterward. They gave each other the usual updates; apparently, she would be in New York the next week and available to grab some coffee. A polite refusal was on Steve’s lips before he could even regret it. He’d figure out later how to tell her he just wanted to be friends.

Lured by the sound of the television, Steve found Tony watching a nature documentary about the savannas of Africa late into the night. Lit by the glow of the screen, Tony’s frizzy hair and the dark circles under his eyes said he was plagued by nightmares. Steve sat beside him and started work on a study of one of Briton Rivière’s paintings. His time in Italy reminded him of all of the classical art he had abandoned in favor of cartooning.

“Is it the stars?” he asked as he sketched out the curves of the lamb.

Tony continued staring at the television like Steve hadn’t said anything at all. After a few minutes, he croaked out, “You remember?”

Steve wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Not really, it’s complicated. I remember remembering, but the memories aren’t really there.”

Tony leaned into Steve’s side and whispered in a flat voice, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve sighed and put aside his drawing. “When you took me flying, I had your memories of you going flying, but now I just remember us.”

Tony let out a breathless “Oh.” He seemed incredibly small just then. Steve had never seen him as anything other than larger than life. He was the sort of man that took on the world and won. But maybe he couldn’t always be like that, just like Steve couldn’t always be Captain America.

“Sometimes I look at what’s happening in the world, what’s already happened, and I think there has got to be some way to protect people from it, but I’m always too late. Steve, I can’t…”  

Tony didn’t have to finish. Steve heard his plea for understanding, for reprieve, and for support. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. In the shell of his ear, he whispered, “You don’t have to.”

There were a lot of things left unsaid, but they would wait. Tony settled into him, and ,hesitantly, he placed his hand on top of Steve’s. He took Tony’s hand and held it, rubbing his thumb over his scars and callouses admiringly. The tickle of Tony’s hair against his cheek, his warmth pressed against his side, the sound of his breathing, Steve felt awash with contentment as he took it all in. They watched TV together until they drifted off to sleep with each other’s heartbeat in their ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Appendix  
> The flowers in Steve’s room:  
> Gladiolus symbolizes strength of character, faithfulness and honor. The Gladiolus flower signifies remembrance.
> 
> Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings and eternal life. It also symbolizes unrequited love. A single daffodil foretells a misfortune while a bunch of daffodils indicate joy and happiness.  
> [source](http://www.theflowerexpert.com/content/aboutflowers/flower-meanings)
> 
> Tony and Rhodey's Movie List  
> Beasts of the Southern Wild  
> Inception  
> Black Swan  
> Zero Dark Thirty  
> Slumdog Millionaire  
> Django Unchained  
> Quantum of Solace + the Bond films after  
> The Curious Case of Benjamin Button  
> Snowpiercer  
> Flight  
> Avatar  
> Inglourious Basterds (Rhodey turned it off so Steve wouldn't see)  
> The new Star Trek movies  
> The Artist (Rhodey invited Steve)  
> Tony wanted to watch Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, but Rhodey saved the day.
> 
> Art referenced in this fic:  
> Chapter 1:  
> [The painting that Steve saw the flowers in](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vincent_Willem_van_Gogh_124.jpg)  
> Chapter 2:  
> [Where Lombardi picked up the note](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piraeus_Lion)  
> [Where Steve waited for Natasha](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lion_of_Venice)  
> [The Statue Steve compared himself to](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marzocco%20)  
> [The statues Steve sketched while waiting](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medici_lions)  
> [Ezeliel's Vision by Raphael](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezekiel%27s_Vision_\(Raphael\))  
> Chapter 4:  
> [Where Steve and Tony ate Hot Dogs](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:New_York_Public_Library_Lion_May_2011.JPG)  
> Chapter 5:  
> [The Bridge Natasha and Steve crossed in St. Petersburg](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bridge_of_Four_Lions%20)  
> Chapter 7:  
> [The painting Steve was doing a study of](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Briton_Rivi%C3%A8re_-_Una_and_the_Lion.jpg)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fanart for Like a Second Heart by Fluffypanda](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150379) by [Timetravelersunited](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timetravelersunited/pseuds/Timetravelersunited)




End file.
